Incandescent Dragon Destiny

Self-feeding, the fire
desires its own warmth, and warms
to its own desire

Fire and brimstone lay all bare: birth, mirth, dearth earth berth soon prepare.
Great, low, brash dash, ash grate's despair, pride rider, beggar, rich, austere.
Play folds after brief fame flare, tide turns, life burns, urn earns; no prayer
staves off brave, weakling wear and tear, which singes all beyond repair.

Time self-devours, each century is swallowed by that which follows free
from here until eternity. Frost's 'Fire and Ice' identity
from tip to tail tale pours, paws flee unveiled combustion nth degree
that scorch, torch, porch and family: our incandescent destiny.

Today, blank slate but barely scratched
must soon, with predecessors matched,
discover that it is dispatched
beneath time's stubble that sees hatched
new generation Lethe latched
which, pauper, plays with paper patched
until, in turn, from earth 'tis snatched.

Tomorrow, many may not see, Tomorrow turns to history,
and thence returns as all must be re-archived with celerity
as flightless Phoenix cannot key unanswered moral mystery.
His story, her uncertainty, together R.I.P. oubli.

Between the two, one's too aware of pointlessness, that splitting hair
precarious may prove! Beware of splits sectarian, unfair
intolerance, of jealous stare, of petty squabble stirs whose blare
rouse Time's dragon from its lair, till self-consumed are match, strike, flare.

(14 May 2012)

poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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