Earth and water without form, <br />change, or pause: as if the third <br />day had not come, this calm norm <br />of chaos denies the Word. <br /> <br />One sees only a surface <br />pocked with rushes, the starved clumps <br />pressed between water and space -- <br />rootless, perennial stumps <br /> <br />fixed in position, entombed <br />in nothing; it is too late <br />to bring forth branches, to bloom <br />or die, only the long wait <br /> <br />lies ahead, a parody <br />of perfection. Who denies <br />this is creation, this sea <br />constant before the stunned eye's <br /> <br />insatiable gaze, shall find <br />nothing he can comprehend. <br />Here the mind beholds the mind <br />as it shall be in the end.<br /><br />Philip Levine<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/berenda-slough/
