* * *
The black and green of the pines
over the yellow and white of the sand;
the sky blue of the sea
under the aquamarine of the sky;
an instance of calm and beauty.
In the long run,
the sand kills the pines,
the pines break the offensive of the sands;
one death against another;
nothing to stay.
They tame the world
that kills them;
they coin the words
that lie;
might be a perfect match.
Pain and beauty,
beauty and pain...
Then comes poetry,
the universe
on the edge of formation.
1983
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