Creation of the World

A shield of silver light is gently laid
Upon the forest still asleep and deep.
The crystal heavens' surface starts to fade
As dawn awakens from its nightly sleep.

Here, the swift striving of the stream is banned,
Abruptly broken by a wall of stone,
While from the east, a golden wave of sand
Arrives to claim the land to be its own.

The chain of snow-clad peaks, a mighty sight,
Looks down, with clarity and menace, searing.
The stars are shedding their remaining light
Upon a plinth of granite, old and fearing.

Here, in the evenings, passionate and sharp,
The moon looks down upon the world below,
And over all the mountains, ringing, warp
The winds that with the dawn's first light will blow.

No sick, no wretched souls inhabit here,
They live without the burden of lament.
This world is not for many, far or near,
This world is yours alone, to which you're sent.

August 2004