sestina primera

looking for a soupçon seepage of light

to appear, as through a miniscule crack

splintering across my desolate shell

refracted through a tear stained prism into colors

clinging to hope … some new form of wisdom

maybe prognostication of the future

who can divine the waters of the future?

tides rolling between dark and light

each of us gleaning what we can of wisdom

desperate for love to come calling with the crack

of a passionate whip, we grasp, holding fast to colors

fading from our expatiating monochromatic shell

bombs of time detonate cleaving each shell

what was the past now the present will be the future

like shrapnel punching holes through stained-glass colors

trailing singular acquiescent shards of light

exhibit halls of shadow - ideas as big as a crack

of lightning preceding the ravenous thunder of wisdom

knowledge turns to vanity without gain of wisdom

leaving the most illumined among us as only shell

domiciles destined to split crevice by crack

until existence spills to one certain unforeseen future

when darkness comes forever and there subsists no light

the rubicon where we’re forced to face the bleeding of colors

still, a spark remains in this world of absconding colors

pilgrims struggle on, marching the road to wisdom

a struck match against the midnight void spreads light

fanning across even the most stolid shell

forecasting a less than dismal future

how does one frame the shot through such a crack?

enlightenment, the prize squinting that crack

exposure exploding the vast palette of colors

harmony and dissonance singing together a future

resonant with echoes of knowledge existing only as inroad to wisdom

when even the meekest among us will venture from the shell

to purchase warmth and spread diffusion of light

eternal hope resides in light, a trickle through the crack

within each shell a mother of pearl rainbow of colors

like an abstruse opal, wisdom for the future

Fire On All Cylinders!