h3_tl.gif (3484 bytes)
 
   

 

   

h3_tl.gif (3484 bytes)
 



Mirages


The beauty borne by breaking dawn
O'er tranquil scene or troubled sea,
Is that it shouts to Dark, "Be gone",
And Night obeys without a plea,
Work partly done, fait accompli!

A trillion times it's been the same
Since earth's first orb from light to light,
Never victor, Gloom can't proclaim
The morn's demise and Death's delight,
For, comes the sun, he's put to flight.

Oh, the mischief, Malice enjoys
Those moments, marching to the west,
A spendthrift sun, no force deploys
To hold for Day the victories wrest
From Fear's hatefully, hungry breast.

He knows the sea, as well the land
Where all before him in fright flees,
He's won with his triumphant hand
What Night had brought unto its knees,
And scattered Doubt's anxious decrees.

The sun knows man almost as well,
Nonsensical, perception free,
Whose history has yet to tell
A single peril, (known to be
Mirages), some certain they see.

Man must worry and show concern
O'er what he cannot gain control,
Then, from that dark, for day will yearn,
To ease his self-tormented soul,
Or hide the head deep in its hole.


--H. Arlequin   

   
  
 

 


h3_tr.gif (3532 bytes)


     


  

h3_tr.gif (3532 bytes) 

 

 
  
 

h3_tr.gif (3532 bytes)

 

 

copyright 1999, The Goober Tree Press, all rights reserved