E L E V E N

There bled a place
In open space
Poured into by old titans,

With bluish days
And night displays
Of stars enlarged and brightened.

Where unrest flowed
From all alcoves
Into the planes beyond,

And colours dueled
To own the fuel
That sprinkled from the sun.

For this was where
The senses shared
Their primal preconditions,

With every kind
Of unrefined
Emotion propositioned.

And peace was first
To be dispersed,
But found to be too needy,

And war was last
To be outcast,
Because it was too greedy.

Where refugees
Found room to breath,
But only for a while,

Then longed for home
Beneath the gloam
Where old light filled the aisles,

And wood extolled
Contented souls
That unknown to their owners,

Did not require
A chest’s desire
For elsewhere’s new corona.

But memory
Had long relieved
These creatures of supposing,

So they forgot
Where home was shod,
And dwelt without its clothing.

Until one day
A youngster came
Back from his monthly hunting,

With frantic news
Of woodland views,
And strangers he’d confronted.

Especially one,
A stall foreman,
Who’d said, in confidence,

That in those woods
The giants could
Once more take residence.

For there had been
Much evergreen
Since their old circumstances,

And now was time
To carry rhymes,
And spread them in the branches.

With narrative
Disparities,
They’d sell their outside world,

To forest folk
Tied to a yolk
That long ago had curdled.

Who’d at the drop
Of headwear swap
Their fecund scenery,

For some place less
Completely dressed
In life’s machinery;

With open veins
Of fallen rain,
And skies of risen light,

And distance due
To a profuse
Occurrence of far sight.

Regardless of
Their once beloved
Connected constitution,

They’d trade away
Their homes today
For private evolution.

And with his words
Promptly affirmed
The foreman they did meet,

In low landscape
Their plan took shape,
To keep it’s size discreet.

Now waiting for
Her paramour,
A giant chieftain sat,

To bear a note
A woodsman wrote,
And start the final act.