In the beginning there was the blossoming breeze,
taut sky rent into slivers of clouds
that gathered at farthest horizons,
dark, roiling at our arrogance,
urgent to set us free.
In the beginning there was the gentle green, fragrant
showers on rose-red flowers, fresh hope lying
tumescent upon the fruitful land.
We did not know the meaning of
living in vain.
For, in the beginning we knew not the end of things:
how breezes became the winds of change,
fresh showers the storms of regret;
blossoming green rent into slivers;
gentle clouds, the deluge
that drowned us all.