The Poetry of World War IV - 3

The Poetry of World War IV - 3
Christopher Bogart

“There was light…”

1.
A Child plays upon the sand;
Pushing the sand in mounds,
And mounding the sand toward
The sea.
His long, slender foot pushes the sand,
With the sole and curved digits.
Glass and sand,
Stroked by the sea,
Diminishes in size.
The Child bows low his head
To see the shadows on the sand
Of travelers from the ships of sea.
He hears the beat of feet,
Thundering on the sand.
His eyes catch the gleam
Of bleak indifference.
His tender gaze turns toward the Fisher King,
Throwing his silver net out to the sea.
The sea rolls in, and then recedes.
The Child looks at the peopled shore and laughs.
Then he cries.

2.
The tears dry upon his face.
Their salt seeded the sea.
His eyes view fantastic shapes.
Colors pinwheeling ‘round and ‘round.
The spectrum explodes over the sky.
Blues, greens, oranges, reds,
Yellows and violets drip over the sphere
Of his mind.
Spurts of color shoot out,
Like rays of some fantastic sun,
Merging hues,
New colors to describe.
Shapes appear,
First simple,
Then complex, sided and rounded
In coils and curves
Springing from columns and domes,
Spiraling upward, then shattering
Into new shapes at odds.
Then explosion, and now
Darkness overcomes all.
Shining stars appear in scenes
Enacted upon the mind of one child.