Unquenchable IT

The IT of everything

 comes unannounced,

this glistening tether

 winding through the ether to grass,

at times from branch to outcrop,
summit to sea,
mindful reparations
through rarefied shadows.

IT

as messenger of leafy longs and shorts,
where morphing shards of sunshine dare
to grow,
to scorch,
to prepare.

IT

Many days with costume transparent,
or gilded in roguish armor,
sits upon my shoulder,
voicing choruses of caution,
harmonies in search.

Severed not,
a barbed reluctance remains.

Time mirrors its midnight cloud
to midday storms,
espousing parched arrival
by sacrificial carriage.

But now ITS pendulum pauses.

The hourglass exhausts its anticipation,
breath's stream meanders backward,
mazes of one's tributaries merge into oceans’ expanse,
overflow continues with time's charitable runoff.

Respite asunder,
invisible energy clears the flutter of leaves,
emerging from new sprouts of memory’s compost,
time’s reverberate past

becomes gentle overtones
for today’s choice to be embraced,
to be caressed
as remembrance echoes
melting icy figments
tirelessly reaching toward tomorrow's
parched courage.

The journey knows ITS all.

Deserts come,
oceans die.

Dust we were,
dust we are.

Perpetuity
knows only life.

The bliss and all of vivacity
continues shadowing,
always nudging
enormity's door a crack further

while the IT of life

 remains unquenchable.