The Explosion
Below the tranquil banks looking at the sea,
the power of the waves and of the solid rocks
create a foam of white flowers
as they explode and
reach into the air with their frothy arms,
posing as if time was an illusion
and the earth stopped its eternal pulse
and the immobile sun hung in the mystic sky.
The white flowers stuck out their proud chests
with their feet still glued to the water,
their electric eyes aiming at the shore,
their smiles dipped in honey,
their whiteness glistening in the sun,
picture perfect, portrait of heaven,
milk of sainted mothers, of pure clouds,
skin of velvet textures and tears of angels,
breaking up into fragments of oceanic lore
as they bring in the secrets of the deep beyond,
the mother lode of the intensive divers,
dashing against the stubborn muted rocks
and then returning again
back into the calm as if the sea
was made of glass and the mystery
remained forever a mystery.
Oh beautiful white flowers posing in the air;
thou art the lore of the deep blue sea
and the sunken paradise before mine eyes.
Be forever more as thou art now.
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