Any
Dream
Photo: copyright James Rainsford
Any
dream of might have been
destroys a scene
faster than a fork of lightening
fells an oak,
which reared a thousand years,
and wept no tears,
in growing, or in going.
For some, a tree
destroys a scene
faster than a fork of lightening
fells an oak,
which reared a thousand years,
and wept no tears,
in growing, or in going.
For some, a tree
may
be no more than wood.
Which could have been by-passed
but for its lasting value to
the few who saw the trees
to profit from a landscape
left with silence.
Mark well that birds have gone,
Which could have been by-passed
but for its lasting value to
the few who saw the trees
to profit from a landscape
left with silence.
Mark well that birds have gone,
and
where their song
once echoed through
the green,
the scene
is stark
the prospect dark,
and, people,
more fruitless
than the forests,
here take root.
Possessed of static seasons
their expectations are all of winter.
A splinter from their touch
would kill dreams faster
than it takes the last
and tallest tree to fall
to leave us all in landscapes
lost in dust
For in the face of futures
once echoed through
the green,
the scene
is stark
the prospect dark,
and, people,
more fruitless
than the forests,
here take root.
Possessed of static seasons
their expectations are all of winter.
A splinter from their touch
would kill dreams faster
than it takes the last
and tallest tree to fall
to leave us all in landscapes
lost in dust
For in the face of futures
which
depend on what has been,
a dream or two can go astray,
but if none stay,
we’re dead,
before the final bed, is made.
© James Rainsford 2013
a dream or two can go astray,
but if none stay,
we’re dead,
before the final bed, is made.
© James Rainsford 2013
Note to readers: First posted last week, but taken down for amendment. Here's the re-edited version. Best regards to all at dVerse Poets.
