On a dreamlike summer evening, <br />I searched for the tablet <br />on which I'd write <br />my name, reaching <br />out for comets falling <br />ever downwards <br />into the nothingness of earth. <br /> <br />According to the elder tales, <br />it were possible to find <br />a fallen comet melting fast <br />upon the human soil, <br />and, taking it up, and <br />placing within a cup or <br />beaker, save it, the water. <br /> <br />And, taking this water <br />to till the soil with, it were <br />possible to irrigate, say, <br />a plum tree with that <br />that gleams like silver <br />from the moon <br />on a dreamlike summer evening. <br /> <br />And, growing faster <br />than any tree ever, the plum <br />would wave itself according <br />to the ways and means of winds <br />from space, and never any <br />human wind, that blows <br />across this human world. <br /> <br />And the fruit, the fire <br />in skin, the royal hue, the dream <br />of sweetness cascading <br />through the mouth, <br />the eater soon would dream <br />of space, and in the morning <br />find the plum tree broken, withered.<br /><br />Phillip Ellis<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/tablet-and-water/
