Gazing out the window,
at the bleary world;
Cold, icy precipitation
filtering the light;
Ponder fleeting memories,
wrestle the bones:
Detail, fact, and feeling,
on the oldest, scarcely remain.
Kindred are the bones,
of a lost civilization,
left by holocaust,
jutting accusing fingers at the sky;
A holocaust of the mind,
missing essential flesh
from the bones of memory,
on this devastated plain.
Indispensable bones, though, hold rightful their place,
pinioning heart, mind, and action,
requisite priorities held in place,
this varied world of thought comprised of
some chaos,
some extinction, and yet...
exquisite growth!
