I pause before a kairos moment,
To see what colors belong to the eye:
all of them, yet none at all.
Open and attentive, we receive,
yet never to own or capture.
Sunbeams slanting out of primary blue
nurse a worm from under firework weeds into a green-gold tomb.
A young monarch emerges weak, clinging to life.
All that was, now is become broken:
a soundlessly shattered chrysalis, opening clear.
Weighty wet and warped wings, hanging hopeless, waiting.
No past, our only future folding and present unfolding.
Trumpet lilies sound the call: new life, now.
No more brown earth. No more dying down deep.
Live up, shout out without words, alive!
Today we kiss the bulbs goodbye, burning bushes unconsumed
color the air, anoint spring with the chrism of our breath.
Still I wait; hoping and falling and crawling until I know what wings can learn.
Our young king genuflects, three pairs of knees to the earth.
One black ray divides in two, a horizon of orange, spotted with storm clouds.
Beneath patiently-powerful violets, rocks split,
indigo whispers rolling the stone away.
The cross now dust, only gold-green leaves
with oaken arms receive her guest.
I am on my way.
About the Creator
J W Knopf
JW enjoys travel, singing, hiking, ice cream and being around water. Favorite reading and writing subjects include philosophy, theology, spiritual well-being, history, biography, political theory, mental health and disability issues.
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