Friday, September 1, 2017




Are we unique,
you and I?
If so,
show me how?
Tell me
why we are?
What made
us creation's prize?
Who directs
this tragic comedy?
Do the heavens
look down
upon us in
perpetual awe?
Is a grain
of sand
adrift at sea
different than
you or me?
Or, are we
simply one
searching for a
receptive beach
on which to
cloak ourselves,
frightened to stare
into the vastness
of space
and time immortal?
As me, do
you see,
when star searching,
only questions?
Is life merely
death's prelude?
How bizarre,
cradle to grave
can be
but one breath
away or
decades of uncertainty?
Are we not
worthy of
illumination from above?
Must we
seek knowledge below?
Is not
knowing the wickedest
condition of
man's free will?
Is ship's
wheel without captain?
Where lies
our ultimate destiny?
Rather, are
we to be
cast upon
jagged, eternal shores
crushed beneath
lifeless, lost souls
who've arrived
eons before us
seeking answers
yet to come?
Is this
death's cruelest sting?

Copyright © 2017 Ron Shaw


Unknowing, she wakes, jutting
towards warmth's supple glow.
Dawn encroaches, caressing
blossom's blush, unfolding.
Morning dew cascades, glistens,
touching crevices yet explored.
Her foundation quivers, unsure,
timid beneath his gentle power,
guiding her path into full bloom.
Stroking, lapping her in rapture.
Swollen, virginal petals pulsate.
Wind and Sun advance. She opens
widely, absorbing nature's first kiss.

Copyright © 2016 Ron Shaw


Upon this stage,
tattered and worn,
shadows wane.
Footlights reduced
to weak flicker.
Wicks hunger
for waxy fuel.
The final word
yet uttered.
Curtains wait
silently, reverently,
to be joined.
The last act
all but over.
Player laments
in somber soliloquy.
'Ode to be young
once again, dancing
upon dew-kissed
clover, searching
for nothing save
timeless skies,
moon-filled nights,
perfumed promise.'
With one parting bow
and last sweet breath
the curtains close.
"The Beginning!"

© 2017

1 comment :

  1. Wonderful work, Ron! Very vibrant and potent. You made every word count!