Ancient

The limbs are tired.

Tired are the eyes;

for the ears there has been

too much sound, too much

coloured noise, and tired,

too, this endless length of day,

this mad chase of sun, moon,

breathless wind, arguments

of cold and heat, dying stars

reborn as planets, circles

and ellipses, comet tails

 

foretelling doom that has

already come and gone,

to even more ends and then,

again, beginnings, the youth

of eternity in the trees, the seas,

the stirrings of time in waves

of dandelion seeds.

 

 

(c) Ella Wagemakers, 15.00 Dutch time (= 9 a.m. EST in the US)

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