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Robert L. Martin

Waterfall

Waterfall of a perilous beauty,
of pastel wings and thorns about,
angel abodes with demonic doors,
living water falling down from
deadly currents breathing life into it,
a gilded heaven revealed
from behind the misty curtains,
nature’s eternal silent symphony
dancing down from jagged cliffs
in cadence with the oceans of time,
beauty in aqua green emeralds falling,
faces in the sunlight of precious gems,
artistic world moving at a furious pace,
from far off sightings, a masterpiece,
nature’s unassuming work of genius,
 
From intimate associations, a hell,
a beast that adorns a holy mask,
where power is the supreme evil,
the touch, a falling into wicked hands,
a compliance to a sorcerer’s request,
the downward journey, a deadly ride,
the smashing into the razor like rocks,
the sound of mortal laughter,
the aftermath, a mission of the devil done,
 
Beauty in her glory, in her aesthetic shining,
her visual grandeur, her humble greatness,
her flight in the company of angels,
her walking with the spirit of the winds,
her place in the assembly of the Gods,
her understanding of their sacred language,
her intelligence of humble origins,
brought forth in the winds of wisdom
and the love of nature and its construction,
of its ways and unassuming beauty,
of beauty in awe of beauty.
 
An ode to her charm
and apprehension to her peril.

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