III. The Lexicon of Thunder
Then spoke the sky in grand, cacophonous tones,
A tintinnabulation of the spheres;
It shook the very marrow of his bones
And washed away the sediment of years.
Each lightning flash—a jagged, bright glyph—
Wrote sagas on the blackboard of the night,
Reflected in the mirror of the cliff
In bursts of blinding, incandescent white.
He gathered up the vocables of storm,
The sesquipedalian roar of shifting peaks,
Until his very essence took the form
Of every word the silent mountain speaks.
The summit beckoned, a white and lonely pyre,
Burning with cold, unquenchable, lexical fire.
No comments:
Post a Comment