Clearings in the wood
It was our cosmos.
A sleek sphere with walls that rebounded
news and cropped dark matter.
We sauntered around in a light darkness.
It was our fledgling life. Bodies were
ice and dust. Close family was rock.
The unknowns were planets. The space made
us feel strong.
Clearings in the wood.
A pinpoint sun shone to convert the frost
and warm up the lake.
Cores of friendly stars lit up precincts with
the tint of fusion.
It was butter coloured. Eyelids were our
lipids. Tangles grew in waters.
The echoes assembled us. We became
faultless.
On, on brief candle!
Our nature crumbled. In a sudden
acceleration of carelessness.
Each hefty pillar fell, one by one, into
substances with muzzles.
Down the throat of nobility.
Our sad limbs and bodies were pulled into
wire.
There were no more clearings in the wood.
We became another blemish in the chaos.
Offspring turned off torches.
Missile fire reclaimed the cosmos.
It drew breath.
Diaphragm upon diaphragm began to build
alliances.
We were submerged. Rivers of life flowed
through new clearings in the wood.
The symbiosis made us joyous.
New hair sprouted and new lips kissed.
We became responsible.
Dr
Stephen Paul Wren was
educated at Cambridge and worked as a chemist in industry for many years. He
transitioned back into academia at Oxford University (St Hilda’s College)
before joining Kingston University in September 2018 where he works as a Senior
lecturer.
Stephen’s
poetry can be read at www.stephenpaulwren.wixsite.com/luke12poetry and
you can find him on Twitter @Stephen34343631.
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