Mystical Dawning.

At the dawning of time,
amidst steam-whirling clouds
of intemperate nature;
of spattered rocks and dust;
savage winds and steel temperatures;
a moment of calm transposed upon chaos,
the first rising of the mystical dawn.

The beginning of a world,
the birth of nature; her offspring alive
with awakening spirits.
The mystical sunrise, Godlike, almighty.
overseeing the hesitant emergence of man.

Millions of years in the blink of an eye
yet the mysticism remains, still intact.
Neither nature or man has access to secrets
that this dawning protects to this day.
Nature is indifferent, too busy creating.
Man is learning, but may never comprehend.
He discerns much that is useful,
yet harbours the bad,
and this may be his eventual undoing.
Humanity may become part of the mystery,
a tiny irrelevant speck of the past.
Future beings will look back in amazement…
how sad, that a species forgot how to love.
And so, each dawning anew, the opportunity exists
to benefit from mistakes of the past.
But at the dusk of each dawning,
the mystery is darker and enshrouds
and perpetuates the myth.


Blogged with Flock


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