A flower blossoms unwitnessed and then dies:
In this process, a great revelation lies.
All earthly light lingers beyond this veil,
Fruit of the stars that shine then quail,
In wood, in uranium and in the oiled grail.

In these mysteries, there is a hidden heat,
For discovery is what makes the kisses sweet.
And though the fire burns the nectar black,
And makes the sooty boughs crumble and crack,
Spring's light renews the ash-lined track.

Around the bounds of ground's seasons we go,
In circles and spirals, we orbit the glow:
We plant our roots where reason shines bright,
But passion's canopy makes shade from light,
In every tree, a sunset fades into the night.

Truth must be garbed in wine and in song,
And in those candles that burn not overlong.
There is no diamond that is not in the rough,
And only timeless photons have hours enough,
So why ask for answers to arrive in the buff?

That which is most precious must not be seen,
To fully know is to leave nothing to glean:




-Grek Lockwood