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Frond Bond Standing Under, Above and Beyond Understanding - after Bryan Waller Procter Pre-Existence

One dreams beyond the palm-tree fronds tinged pink by sunset which
paints picture pink, inspires to think, on comings, goings, rich
that here inspire the poets lyre to muse on present, past,
on currents' flows, on Natures shows, on shadows all things cast.
One feels at ease amid light breeze beneath palm trees by beach,
sand dunes behind have underlined deep themes that seem to teach
Life journeys on, no soon begun than done, sun story passed
to higher planes - to start again chance karmic dance at last?

One sits beside wide sea to see wee sandy grain once rock
which doubtless stood out centuries would, mighty, lightly mock
sun, wind and rain that Time's reign trained to slowly infiltrate
nooks, chinks and crannies summer heat expanded at a rate
which seemed so slow - years ebb and flow - when measured by the clock
whose hands crept fast as seasons passed relentlessly, tick-tock.

One sits on sand to understand and silently take stock
of passing time which in rhyme's chime stands out and, with a shock,
one asks again how fame, task, gain can matter; what seemed great
is shattered, tattered, blown away one day by ebb tide Fate.
Yet still one thinks at water's brink till suddenly the cock
begins to crow, 'tis time to go, Life's mysteries unlock.

One bends light waves when wonder craves to wander with insight,
enlightened caves, beyond slave graves, to trace ways to unite
hope's stalactite, scope's stalagmite, to fight face values' bait
which ties rope tight round fears found slight, quite groundless, reprobate.
Creative thought, rich caught, to naught to often fades as night
to dawn defers, morn mourns, prefers to dream strange theme, changed bill of rights.

What's safe, what sure, stray waif, secure? All ends in wormwood box.
Bought sinecure, sought cancer cure, fight mortal paradox.
Time's skeins unwind, wane, mind's refrain release finds seeking peace,
few key to tunes which cue to runes foretelling change won't cease.
Our memories freed from mistakes, fake cash greed, crash, boom, bust,
enigmas solve before dissolved, resolve spurned, turned to dust.

One would reach out beyond beach, flout horizons fixed, finite,
beyond restraints where courage faints to find wings for mind's flight
which soar beyond poor petty pond to ponder second state
where cares today may melt away as hope can conjugate
eternity in sandy grain, see beauty shining bright
as time and tide are put aside and never know goodnight.

(19 February 2012)

poem by Jonathan Robin
Added by Poetry Lover
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