IT
by Odin Roark

IT
Comes unannounced,
This glistening tether winding through the grass,
At times from branch to outcrop,
Summit to sea,
Cognitive to heartfelt.

Mindful reparations
Through moonlit shadows,
ITS leafy trees of tall
Reverenced by shrubs of short,
Each morphing shards of sunshine's dare
To grow,
To scorch,
To prepare.

Many days the cover transparent,
Or gilded in roguish armor,
IT sits upon my shoulder
Voicing choruses of caution,
Dissonance in harmony-search.

Severed not,
This barbed countenance of fear,
For time mirrors its midnight cloud
To midday storms,
Espousing duplicitous rewards,
Arriving by sacrificial carriage.

The pendulum pauses,
The hourglass exhausts its anticipation,
Breath's stream meanders backwards,
One's consciousness becomes a tributary maze
Struggling against time's charitable runoff.

Respite’s plea asunder,
Expectancy pleads,
Its flutter of leaves
Rousing new sprouts from memories' compost,
Awakening an opaque reverberation of past.

Each becomes gentle overtones,
Inviting today’s choices
To be embraced,
To be caressed
As remembrance echoes,
Melting icy experience,
Quenching tomorrow's once parched courage.

The journey knows IT is all,
For deserts come,
Oceans die,
Dust we were,
Dust we are.
Perpetuity knows well
All variables of life.

To contemplate,
To allow,
Is to know the bliss of IT,
The all of IT.

IT
Continues coming,
Always nudging enormity's door a crack…
Always.