J.B. Drori
May 1948

In what manner,
Concrete yet elusive,
Do nature’s forms
Encircle countless others?

They, of origins hidden,
With no end to mind or time,
Of cells perpetual,
And evanescent soma,

Through death and life,
Seek to reach the other?

From whence does the spark come?
Bonded in hydrogen to sun,
In its heat it glows
To its own destruction?

What proper proportion,
Careful tried design,
And scaled quantum,
Keeps all in rein?

Would less asunder lay?
More, a matter change?

From whence time,
Born in pulsating space end?
Or return to its
Beginning?

Will the heavenly fires
Still be burning
In the cosmic crucibles
Tomorrow?

And all exquisitely balanced
On the fragile tip of a pin?




© 2013 by Jack Bernard Drori

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