Poetry is the geometry of rainbows and other dreams,
All those prolific clouds and quantifiable storms,
All that radiant sunshine and other bliss.
Poetry is like the sulking moon,
All that evolving revolution,
Revolving with our blessed planet,
Reminding us that all too soon,
Destiny and night will fall,
More dreams will come,
To decorate our creative room,
The gravity of the situation,
Cells dividing,
One into two,
Mitochondria and chromosomes,
Sharing all that intrinsic knowledge,
More about fortunate life and the royal universe,
So much dark and light,
Nuclear constitution,
Like the sun and stars,
Galaxies resolving into insatiable black holes,
Like hungry lava dissecting Mount Fujiyama,
Molten rock vapourizing the fervent Hawaiian sea,
All those fearless yet extinct dinosaurs,
Glorious Mammoths preserved in Siberian permafrost,
Every atom and particle has a purpose,
Nothing exists that God hasn't a divine use for,
Our true wealth endures in perfect nature,
Beyond that only segmented worms have the richest answer,
One golden movement after another,
Like H2O in its fluid state,
Historic ice into water into vapour,
All those life giving qualities,
Everything is preserved in the end,
Reconstituted into divine thought,
Oceans of mysticism and preferential atoms,
So the endless story goes,
Finally poetry takes over,
Posing that eternal question,
What truly matters,
Is it the immutable beginning,
Or the questionable end?