Sunday, March 1, 2015

Life cycle of Art


Oh, wintry flakes pile up on our dwelling place

while summer's green be gone with little trace

until one day stalactite ice gets a grip,

and another day begins to drip.


Soon the forest floor, laid with humus deep

will send up shoots and begin to peep;

from little bits and bites that life discarded long ago

life will resume its spritely show.


Then peeps pop up from forest floor,

their thriving purpose soon to restore;

with us inside our dwelling safe and sound

this man considers what is all around.


See, sprouting life is nestled in a natural place,

'though we have assigned unto it all some human trace.

And so, as if the real thing were not interesting enough,

we go and imitate life with our arty stuff.


And though we so cleverly form our stuff into some crafty work

to promote our art as masterpiece, or some other querk,

we really do just throw our weight around in this natural world

as bull in china shop, while shards get hurled.


That movement comes; this stillness goes

until living dies; then dying throws

its soulful cycle through an open door,

returning it to the earthen floor.


Selah.


Glass Chimera

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