Font Color='#880000'To Be As One/Font

Eliciting from heaven's floor, sweet kiss,
E'er baiting men to miss, to weave worn beards,
But thirsting still, to drink feigned promises,
So walls and spears and distant roads may rear;
As would the moon when crossing stars at night,
For wanting wax, well make it wane or full:
Intending eyes to view what eyes deem right -
That much it matters to its phase at all.

Wherefore the vast and limitless ocean touched
The sterile ground, eroded rock and land
And with the tide, as if to give so much,
Brought kind humidity and life to lifeless sand?
What droplets might perspire or appear
Against compulsions wreaked by hand and sword?
Or dulcet buds refusing bloom, to bare
When horr'd reality speaks harder verb?

That kings should watch 'till quaking thirst does mend
From thrones, from shadows, braggarts begging please
Their fealty parched, so boldly recommend,
That floods pour out and full, for all men's ease.
As jealous springs may melt the age off time,
Like in some mild panic, shaking wings,
But to divert the least of rain: That date,
That runs hours rampant, slaking all love's things.

This trick, this list, this eye, if more, this brain,
That seeming what does come does order it,
And make it real, as though to blow in wind,
Or cry in rain. What real requires of that?
Did not these hemispheres through slender limbs
O'er starlit dreams aspire? To be well known
With all full leave, compelling each of them
As blossoms drawn; for both to be as one?

What hope may be, is less than even this:
That thirst would rule the rain, or wash the wave,
To blow where winds won't blow; where pain's amiss,
To pain, with cultivated track, enslave,
And trammel hard to beat a once proved heart,
Whose echoes ring unanswered in the desert.
What guise or trick or trap should courage show,
When leaving earth untrampled, flowers grow?

-February 11,2006

by David Zvekic

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