To watch the sun rise over the escarpment
invokes some primeval victory
of light over the shadowy depth of stone and gloom;
of beauty over the infernal forces of degradation and entropy.
Too easy it would be
to embrace the perpetual binding and rending
as all there is
or ever will be,
but hope, like earth, stirs,
outlasting the bitter construct of destruction and melee
promise beats still within the bosom of the earth
-a bastion of redemption birthed out of the bitter dregs of despair.
Long in coming, creeping
like the great glaciers that sculpted the land
-the fingertips of God,
ponderous yet unrelenting; unyielding,
weaving in providential array
a gorgeous tapestry into which suffering and wavering
are but mere strands of contrast among oceans of color.
We witness it now-
this divine topography
these peaks and valleys
bearing the scars of flame and flood
yet unfolding over the land a vast panorama
made richer and fuller in the breaking
through which rivers course like veins
unseen, yielding verdant beauty.
So we dread not the moment but in its passing
welcome the persistent spark
-the coals unstoked yet simmering.
We stand boldly on the cusp of eternity
in hearty defiance of despair
fretting not the cacophony but in its chaos
recognizing the strains of sovereignty.
We bear harsh discipline
but lament not the whirlwind for its sake
but relish the fresh shoots in the absence,
the fauna that graze,
and the cry of the hawk echoing above,
unburdened and unadulterated,
freely greeting the burgeoning dawn in joy.
