Godlover, not knowing why, had chanced past
familiar vast wasteland and forest speck --
where they two had danced and prayed as one, last
month or so -- to this unknown granite peak
whose summit faded to what must be clouds
the Wise One had sung in legend. In faith
he climbed, and climbed, and climbed, then cried out loud
at what he found: a garden, lush, with paths
through treasures of apples, oranges, lettuce,
herbs, and clear stream where he drank blessed potion
of his every cell. Discovered vanished,
sacred honey bee in flight through ocean
of bright sunflowers -- cut one with his knife.
Set off to bring her here: start a new life.
Roger Armbrust
November 25, 2015
