Movement

What is a life without movement?
What is the sinew and bone of a mighty beast,
its magnificent frame and taut muscle
but without the wild charge or dynamic gesture
or the wild charge without flying dirt and dust?
What is the miracle of anatomy
with all its infinite structural complexity
but without beating heart and flowing veins,
without the finite hormonal balance,
intestinal contraction or inflated lung?


What is the dappled light of a forest glade,
a natural glittering cathedral
of bright sun rays like columns
highlighting an assortment of natural colour
but without long grass yielding to cool breeze,
or the fleeting glimpse of foraging deer,
the glorious dancing butterfly
or the diversity and careful interplay
of changing light and shadow?
What is the vast ocean
without its undulating swell,
crescendo of crashing surf,
the living soup
without its teaming life below?


Movement is a storyteller
the poets laboured passion
a performer of dreams
casting light upon hidden nightmares
revealing them in brutal animated detail
and the perfectly captured energetic beauty
of a wet black writhing serpent
or the majestic soaring white pegasus
unreality made real.
Movement makes the world go around
not money or greed
but the suns unrelenting pull
the earths centrifugal revolution
its shifting magnetic field
deflecting a deadly breath of radiation
Life is movement.


And if, in final realisation
of our infinite complacence
we emerge triumphant
from the nightmares we create
It will be movement,
the catalyst and the journey
the action of courageous ingenuity
that will decide our fate.

Reviews

[Stuart Ellis]

thankyou :)

[ganymeder]

What a lovely poem. Life is movement. And the need to move to decide our fate.

As always, well done. :)