11.6.11

All Calmness





All calmness on the waterfront

Not a breeze to urge a ripple

The willows have all they could want

to sun and drink just a little.



The dark, quiet lake whispers soft,

a soul singing of its living.

It sends its powerful force aloft

and rejoices in the giving.



But, the eagle knows, as it flies

painting the clouds above the lake

sees the form with its eagle eyes

leaving behind a loathsome wake.



In the deepest, of the water dwells

something that doesn't belong.

Where the lake is heavan, it is hell

and it sings the blackest song.



It soaks up all that's negative

and grows with each passing day

so that the lake, as it is, may live

until finally comes, the breaking day



when the shadow in waters deep

comes forth, full of sadness and grief

at once, too large for the soul to keep.

A beast in need of relief.



It rises from the water, black and cold

a spree of killing to release its pain.

A young demon...eternally old

and intent on destroying again and again.



Slowly, so slowly, the beast becomes small

every step and blow depletes its source,

until, at last, the dark shade falls

travelling on its fated course.



But even as the creature dies

the eagle sees a new something born,

tiny now in power and size

yet growing now with every scorn.



And the dark, quiet lake, whispers soft

a soul, singing of its living

It sends its powerful force aloft

and rejoices in the giving.



The young poet wrote this transparent analogy many years ago. While it works WAY too hard to keep the syllables just so, I think it still works and has something to say. More importantly, it hints at the style the young poet had already started creating at 20 years old.

Thanks for reading, off to write!

Cheers,

Casey

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