RSS Feeds

Here you will find the writings of the poet Theodore Waterfield

The End of the World

I read of the world ending,
going on to the far reaches of forever.
It is settled now.
The gurus of science,
of numbers,
of alien intuitions,
have determined it is so,
and I accept it with faith,
with the taste of an apple,
with my heart thumping.

The world will end,
dissolving like mist,
like forgotten letters,
like crumbling cake,
until there is only loneliness,
and cold,
and black vacuum.
With the cry of a cat,
the last ribbon of a rainbow,
a kiss that grows cold.

And sufficiently edified,
I put the article in a book of poems,
and going to my garden,
I told the geraniums,
be as red as you can be,
flame with life,
and be a fire in my heart.
And I waved to the sparrows
and called, fly as high as the heavens
take you to the ceilings of their house.
Let rain fall on the bay,
and let the boats
fill their sails with glorious silence.

Shout to me,
that there is no love
that ever was, that can die,
that the world
is too bright to dim,
grow black,
be lost in a dark dream.
Tell forever,
you and I are on the scene.
Tell the scientists
we make a difference,
that tears never dry,
joy never leaves,
hope never ends.

Comments are closed.