Flight

In the end was the beginning
As the light crept forward
Before there were monsters and demons and gods and angels
Then the cleft slipped and sang to shine
There were stories said the captive light
Of jackdaws and skylarks of mice and bluebottles
And the tide came in to tell millions more
As yes battled no with no hopes of compromise
Sliding pools storied in clam shells
Waiting for the tide
Yearning for far away places
Ripped in the retch of today
The light blinked and a story retained
Love wove in gravel returning to sand
And cyclic wandering lives
Footsteps melt away in tide
Driftwood turns to tell shadows
Trusting stories wave repeat
And there is gone
Some legion some metaphor some unknown
That dares to slice deep, to penetrate
That darkest of coal, spun, lit into light
Reaching beyond beginnings
Spits of sand spilling their ways
Turning leaping stop to go
Shapes probe mysteries words into spaces
Silent and deepening
Land slips touching another
Then a bottle a letter a hope
Open to flight

Denis Streeter   12/25/15