Or Not Live At All

here on the roster of the unimportant

through my rococo angels of the rose and gold

unapologetically may I muster

the call to arms of the beautiful that has been designated

waste, ash.

something oh surely human beings no longer need.

oh all the taskmasters are in agreement. with their blank ecologies.

I will embroider every sun and moon of it, the least star

the scantest ray through the basement apartment window:

a thousand angels in each dust mote reflecting Light

or we will live in the shadow on the sundial all other colours failing

contemplating the swift the still silver rains falling

how they sweep the birds in, in waves of utterable music

how you can still hear them

though the drones drone over you.is the Great Mystery.

I will stoop to the small pink flowers in the grass

and whisper to them the end is not near

the end will never be

till the last quasar of beauty sparkles

we will endure you and I

listening to the call of wild and irrevocable beauty

from the far regions,

or not live at all.

mary angela douglas 5 march 2021