Saturday, August 21, 2010

The Play


With it all
With it all
Down with it all
The artist's imagination
Is a wrecking ball

How can perfect light
Be pictured to stay
When staying to points
Means to stagnate the day

Away I say, Away
From all of the noise
The thunderstorm and lightning
Are my only poise

At least with destruction
Of towering walls
Can truth be inducted
Into lavishing halls

Rain upon the gutter
Redirecting floods
A value of calm nature
Mixing with mud

Elation to the point of conspiracy 
Can constrict those who say
To think such thoughts are crime
To all's utter dismay 

If the bounty of infinite love
Means breaking down all joys
Where is the trust you once had
When I made my service yours

Alas Alas if all dreamed this way
Of dreary sweet weather outshining the grey
Of an overcast of drops feeding what may
Perhaps then all would be able to appreciate the play.

Copyright, 2010, Christopher Baird--all rights reserved.
Contact me for reprint/posting permission.

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