by Roger Fritz, 7-12-13
Once upon a time, on the shores of the Yellow Sea,
a young man pursued the aromas of memory across
a terrible plain, a vastness of nature where
huge forces had twisted the rocks like taffy,
had played with the chromatics of time until
they begged for mercy.
Unlike him, the angels returning from battle came
trooping in long after dark, their feathers bedraggled
and the scorch marks fading faster than the emotional scars,
which lingered like little demons of pain.
Like him, the mighty devas who had generaled the battle
were exultant in their finery, preening like thunderheads,
tossing lightening from their hair as they whirled in
a wild dance of abandon.
Unlike them, the young man was filled with longing for
the ancient unkempt waters of the deep ocean
and the satisfaction of turning away from the light
to the depths of space and
the even wilder dancing of the stars.