Eternity Beckons

by Yahia Lababidi

A sandaled foot sinks into the sand,

and Time collapses...

The landscape is transfigured -

every thing lives and is unfinished -

so much wet clay.

“Gently, brother, pray”

tread lightly, heed the tenderness,

the vulnerability of all things.

This is how I feel,

groans the earth,

experience my birth pangs,

witness my death throes.

Hear, now, the agony of perpetual creation

The earth heaves, breathes a sigh

the air is full of her pregnant cries.

Watch the sky darken, hang heavy and low

with the lowering of a world-weary eyelid,

the vegetation, now, a deep matte velvet.

Widen the eyes, raise the head and spirit,

the greenery is radiant with light.

In the mystery of moods lies the mastery of scenery

with a look one can color the landscape.

With a look the parched throat of a canal dampens

wild flowers clamor to arrange themselves.

Surrendering her will, Nature is

formed, deformed, transformed.

The double helix of Existence

laughter-suffering

elaborately, they alternate.

Tugging at the spirit,

the side of the mouth,

the corner of an eye.

The tear like a pendulum,

swings

Heart laid bare, mapped out

like overlapping tightropes

absorbing as a spider’s net.

One misstep and one is caught,

carried away and helpless.

See faces contort, bend out of shape

the singular harmony of features

tortured by multiplicity,

violent winds agitating

the surface of still waters.

Ruins everywhere, rocks like bones

(as hard, as brittle)

now, age, wither.

Shuddering certainty where before

there was only intimation

Safeguarding her Secret

the Muse makes a mockery of words -

meaningless, words disperse

with a piercing glance.

Every thing is born, suffers and perishes

the belly of Being rumbles.

Eternity beckons...