This is an entire optic, entirely
An Eye, sailing, on a sea of sunlight,
To catch the Eternity that, Hourly,
Drops like rain, from the heavenly birthright,
All these ornaments, of an endless air,
Clouds of corpse’d stars, newborn stars, galaxies,
Fill the Temple, of the head, from the stair
Of space, of such silent capacities,
(These commotions that – motion us – up
Brings back the Bowman, pulls back, the arrow string,
All the way to the shoulder, of Earth,
What are Heavens without the firmament’d Earth?)
Beyond the timberline another Eye
Ascends, a lone life, more than an eye,
A pool of water, in the palm, of a
Pinion pine’s Abrahamic bark, reflects sky
Just as much as you O’ catching Webb, the
Wind-slanting tree, just as much, sees All in ebb.
Cheers to your Sunday morning…
JCL
JChristianLawrence 