Phoenix
The Wave
From dust to dust grains in the universe of sand
Floating endlessly boundlessly
Fan by the waves of celestial winds
In ever warping tornadic emcsquare projections
Spiraling with embedded helixical DNA
Into the binary hotdogs and donuts
Bursting into glorious spectrum of
Visible colors and magical Hubble-betrayed rainbows
As the grains fell into the dark
Abyss of the black holes billions in space.
Only to emerge triumphant with a howling
Cry of happiness of life anew like an infant
Shut eyed pedaling legs and fisted hands
Signaling an energy many times the tornadic
Powers of the celestial creation.
To start a new cycle of dust to dust
A new wave in the universe of sand.
Up and down
Cresting on the bright moons
Cupping on crescents
Down and up with the sun
White cap crystals
Placid on dark moons
The wave forever undulates
Bubbles to surf feathering into the sand
Grains cascading back into the ocean
Sucked beneath the oncoming circling pipes
Yet again radiating reaching soaking
The sun as the water again recedes
To start a new cycle of dust to dust
A new wave in the universe of sand.
©NDR May 22, 2016
This poem is yet another view of man's mortality. This one gelled
in my mind on a one hour flight coming back from a friend's funeral-
a celebration of his life. All of us had attended a few funerals. And we can
all safely say there is the sad and happy part, the burial takes place
after a religious ceremony and the celebration follows. Man's mortality
begins at birth and ends at death, so we hear. But the unyielding feeling
of connection is so strong that we just unconsciously, routinely "celebrate"
a dead person's life as if he is alive among us, there to enjoy his company.
Without us believing it seriously he could actually be with us celebrating
his life, now immortal, his soul rises Phoenix-wise "to start a new cycle
of dust to dust" and be mortal again.
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Nelson D Reyes
about 4 yearsThank you Brod. Earlier today, actually yesterday, I read in the net
about the 49 black birds that flew over the site where a memorial was
being held for the 49 innocent beautiful people who fell in that act of
senselessness the other day. Nobody knows where the birds came from
or where they were headed. A "wave" in the sky? A halo, maybe?
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Robert L. Martin
about 4 yearsI agree with Vic. I love your metaphors.