Patterns bright-pristine
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Patterns bright-pristine
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Made in the image of curves, contours,
spirals, buds, and crystal tendrils:
I am in the midst of ruins —
wrapping, swirling organisms
venture out — and soon return
to glowing, hyperdig'tal urn.

Ash and living plasma, pulse;
wind and flame write names below
that dotted line of phys'cal plane
whose price is steep upon the brain
yet risk-reward is weighed and judged
as worthy, though dim sorrows smudge
each morning, bleary pastel shades
are on existence overlaid.

Those ancestors who bore my ilk,
who persevered through brutal days
pursuing joy and nat'ral hue
of storied arc through separate ways:
unfolding paths through lessons hard
perfumed groves and briars sharp
have shown with signs an image crude
of essence from melodious harp.

Curves, contours — spirals, chords
and colors painted through sweet words
have trickled down through sketched years
becoming faces you see here.

I am in the midst of change —
neverending rearrange
of atoms, quarks and spirit vague:
personal'ty's plague.

At cessation of this rage
endured — at the end of page
lie hints of greater glories still:
I will drink my fill.

Then this memoir in min'iature
will zoom in further, fully blur
until all that can e'er be seen
are patterns bright-pristine.