Poetry: Eating the Young

Oh to be that crystalline assemblage,
Unique in design, so intricately symmetrical,
Free falling from winter sky,
Sailing on chill winds.
Oh to be one in the flurry of my brothers,
Soaring down to mother earth
Before cruel heat dissolves us.

Oh to be that flake of snow
Before the inevitable melting.

Oh to be that apex racing 'cross the sea,
Free between two worlds;
Of life-bearing ocean and life sustaining air.
Oh to be that crest, surfing the fold,
Where rushing water meets salty breeze,
Before immovable rock lays me low.

Oh to be that wave
Before the cruel shore breaks me.

Oh to stand tall in the forest,
Limbs upturned to cherished sun,
Feet planted steadfast; stronger than stone.
Oh to be that regal structure,
Branches aflow with the juices of life
Before steel teeth sever my arteries.

Oh to be that tall tree
Before the logger strikes me dead.

Oh to be that summit commanding the horizon,
Keeper of rare snow,
Rising to imperial height.
Oh to be that pinnacle;
Object of man's most daring endeavor,
Before steam and lava flow, scorching to death my domain.

Oh to be that mountain
Before the malevolent eruption.

Oh to be that maelstrom of fire,
Womb of birth to all around me,
Bestowing rays of sustenance
Upon trillions of seekers.
Oh to be that star, centre of creation
Before my fuel is depleted
And I consume my own children.

Oh to be that sun
Before its certain red doom.

Oh to be that tiny one,
Helpless to exist but for the truest love evoked.
Drawing wonderment from onlookers.
Oh to be that beacon of purest light;
That miracle of shining truth,
Before that blackest of days when poison omnipotent
Crushes in an instant all hope of freedom.

Oh to be that child
Before her first word is spoken.