Crying to the Heavens
Dust cries to the heavens,
in saving plea of its motionless state,
lost to time and the stillness of void,
it watches world spinning as it laments.
Wind cries to the heavens,
to rest its weary bones,
lost to the turbulence of movement’s plight,
its vast sight too much to bear.
Water cries to the heavens,
its extremes of change, mood and state,
a sensual overwhelming,
a longing still surrounding to never sate.
Fire cries to the heavens,
its fierce and consuming rage a wasted fuel,
when destruction is all it holds to heart,
and endings a charred and lifeless part of giving.
Man cries to the heavens,
never satisfied, never accepting of plight,
weary of the struggle, of the harsh realities of life,
yet never taking responsibility for right.
Acceptance narrows the playing field,
where change is just another step,
and tis not our will that dictates life,
just the needed lessons of strife,
that define who we are.
Tony DeLorger © 2016
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