The Universe, a clockwork grand, in ticking silence whirls,
Where Nature’s hand and iron band, in endless waltz, unfurls.
Each spark, each gear, a measured dance, a cosmic ballet’s grace,
But entropy’s cold fingers prance, and steal the warmth of space.
Oh, Progress, siren of the mind, with promises so vast,
You tempt us with a future kind, a never-ending feast!
But hidden in your bright disguise, a truth that chills the soul,
For every bloom that heaven spies, a withered leaf takes toll.
The sun, a spendthrift in the sky, burns bright, then fades to gray,
His golden coins, they trickle by, to fuel the cosmic play.
And we, like moths, drawn to the flame, of innovation’s fire,
Chase phantoms in the endless game, till ashes quench desire.
An economy of endless thirst, a thimble held to sea,
Can quench the desert’s fevered burst, or drown eternity?
The laws of Nature, cold and stark, stand sentinels of time,
No mortal hand can leave its mark, no conquest can climb.
In finite fields, where shadows creep, ambition’s bloom must fade,
And lessons learned in slumber deep, beneath the stars are laid.
A world of whispers, secrets kept, in nature’s hidden lore,
Where entropy’s soft lullaby, bids chaos cease to roar.
So hush, dear soul, the siren’s song, and seek a different grace,
Where harmony and stillness throng, in Nature’s warm embrace.
Let wisdom bloom where daisies grow, in fields of sunlit peace,
And find in quiet depths below, a love that will not cease.
For in the dance of dusk and dawn, where shadows gently fall,
A deeper truth is whispered on, beyond the mortal thrall.
Not endless growth, but graceful bend, to life’s unyielding tide,
In hearts that love, and souls that mend, where passion finds its guide.
So let us live, with gentle hand, in Nature’s sacred trust,
And find in each grain of shifting sand, a love that cannot rust.
For in the hush, when shadows creep, and stars begin to gleam,
We’ll find our solace, deep and deep, in nature’s whispered dream.
:: 12.14.2023 ::
E.P. Robles | Poetry 