We, pulsating purple, patterned in gold,
Orchid-like trumpets
Crying out—do unfold
Mysteries blossom,
Sunkist blooms,
Beauties from heaven
Brighten the gloom.
Hard not to see the abundance of life,
Gloriously thrum,
Before the dark, looming scythe.
Care not for the blade,
And not for the reaper,
Not for the storm—
For the mystery runs deeper.
Hidden below, verdant green grasses,
Lush, loamy soils—
Life still surpasses
The boundaries imposed
By the confines of the place.
It jiggles, it teems,
It stares in the face.
We, the ones in this abode,
On this mysterious rock,
Offer the most unbearable load
On the creatures and critters
Sharing the fate
Of this beautiful marble
And its precarious state.