Paradox Through Divinity
Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem
The mountain range as strict as only rock
Would be is mirrored by the shadow splayed
By peaks. More like a ragged tomahawk
Of flint the mountains are a fixed crusade
Against the lingering of light across
The lakes and plain where water is so clear
That it is pure as points the Southern Cross
Will levitate above the atmosphere.
Wyoming or New Zealand: stone is still
And shade is certain and uncertain, true.
They both are honest. Rock and wraiths instill
The sight of tattooed Maori and Sioux.
Transcendent heights and transcience like shade
Are sovereign, being deity’s twirled braid.
~ Phillip Whidden