By W.G. Quixote
Date: 17 May 1997

Of Time and Stars

Stillness, the moment is absolute.
My tender intentions I have confessed;
my heart, lying open and undressed,
sits on the sleeve of my pressing suit.
Still the seamstress of my frayed dreams stays mute.
Soft airs rise and fall calmly in her breast.
What hopes are nurtured in that nubile nest?
Her pause, pregnant yet with promised fruit.
Coursing nature waits in suspense, frozen as rock;
eternity passing in the tick of a clock.

Our love, conceived amidst comet showers,
by quarks and quasars did swirl and swell.
Among the stars and planets we still do dwell
in a blissful blending of Venus and Mars.
Yet now the dark, demanding powers
bid we break this charmed cosmic spell,
descend through the heavens and fires of hell
to offer the world this treasure of ours.
Dare we now approach the earth
where love must live through death and birth.

I search her tearing eyes to understand
the stars in which are writ my destiny.
Will I live pained prose or pastured poetry?
I would fit her finger with a golden band.
Then many years hence, as we walk hand in hand
and watch the sun die feebly in the sea,
we'll recall that we too have touched eternity
as new tides wash our footprints from the sand.
Thus graced, I'll go gently to my grave.
Hush! Now she speaks. I am doomed or saved.