Pas de Deux

High above the tree line stands a small ivory flower.

Alone in all the lonely universe, the white bloom thrives,

Surrounded by tall, brooding sentinels of silent dark stone.

It is a quiet early morning time among the gaunt towers;

Glacial snows glint in the mirrored surface of icy rock faces

As the cold gilt of dawn’s light gathers in the azure sky.

Hardly a breath of rarest air stirs the petals of the flower

As it reposes on the frigid flanks of the sleeping mountain,

A small presence amidst the giant shadows of the fleeing darkness.

The palpable quietude hangs frozen in time, as icy tines

Of hidden rock-hoar which have never felt the warmth

Seek sterile solar light in this splendid temple of  desolation.

Clinging to the silent stony cliff face, Edelweiss, the

Noble Whiteness, grows bravely, humbly in the company of these

Mute and stony crags, an incarnation of the inconsequential beauty

Of all transient life in this reliquary of fire and ice.

Then, without a herald louder than a whisper, the wind,

That restless spirit of all that strives to exist in the confusion

Of  universal empty chaos, rushes down from the heights

And tallest spires of granite to roar out with unbound passion

The furiously unknowable emotions of some nameless demon,

Filling the human heart to its depths with awe and wonder;

The Edelweiss, greeting what we pale mortals fear and dread,

Trembles and begins a dance of pure abandon in the embrace

Of these Aeolian zephyrs from remotest Arctic regions.

The flower and wind begin their timeless pas de deux,

Satisfied with each other’s company and lacking nothing,

While far below our mortal world embarks upon yet another day.