Bellow Unto the
Midnight Stars
Bellow out unto the earth
And echoing skies:
A sorrow song for
The last child in the woods,
The last dragonfly, the lightening bugs blinking
out one final
time into a withering night.
Born into a dying world
with
Fierce quiet eyes of knowing,
Iron beams of light hold frame from within:
Children of Indigo.
They hear the whispers of leaves and grass,
See the meticulous renderings of red ants through rough
bark.
The aching heartbeat thumping the planet’s core
Pulsates upwards through their feet.
When ridges shift
within, they are not shaken.
Memory and knowing converge.
The lashing storms over plains and crumbling of mountains
into sea
Carve the
new topography into their DNA.
Their parents and guides--
We of the bolting ash and rust dusted
Generation of Industry--
Rebirth may not be for us.
Our flames extinguish at the 7th Frontier,
The Great Turning.
For us it may only be to love, to nourish, to watch in awe
This next generation
As they step
out onto the edge of a world
about
to be transformed.
=============== 8th
September 2015, in flight from Bangkok to Tokyo
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