Mass

 

Mass

A small mass of urgency perches upon the shore

The sea’s closeness seems a polite respite

To the darkening pink of the rugged verdure

That holds before the forest’s stygian lore.

A hinted sense of wariness whispers: Hear-

My gentility! A danger tinder’s for mass in prayer.

A call from below the ledge sounds,

“What see thee; what damn is here?”

Came one – came another and soon a cast

Gathered, one by one, to gather many stones

To climb up the granite wall’s face to the ledge

Each ascender building steps – a rising mast!

And the saviors spread across the width and length of the rise

Gaining, gaining - each anchor forms another step

Higher and higher toward the glowing radiance above

Where peril’s entreaties agonize.

And still the masses flow; rank and file to address the defile.

The desecration of fawn and fauna by lapping tongues

That intend absolution by conflagration;

Isle of Innocence consumed in radiant fires; a mass trial.

And what of the forest; the granite wall, the humanity?

Shall there be unreadable devastation; all lore decimated,

Rendered into the flame’s hues of autumnal brilliance.

Amass the scapes; Amass the souls to find reason for infinity.

For there is no umbrage found in the summon of eternity.