By: Bitterbud~

I can see the future through the interminable shadow.
The salvation: the beauty of streams and hills,
Beneath Heaven’s floor, cross-stitched with grass
That entices man’s wish to attain the pure green –
Forging innocence that covers infants in a protecting stone
That tumbles as rouged cheeks adorn the fair face of woman.

The inevitable pulsing hatred of an amoral man or woman
Filters out the formidable but repressed shadow
Of any kindness left inside that cracked, protecting stone.
The shredded, discarded skin, litters those streams and hills 
Which provide such beauty in our world of blue and green:
Irony as purity turns to evil which beautifies the vaulted grass.

When wantonness lays upon Eden’s heavenly grass,
Tempting juicy curiosity from the first woman,
The everlasting prominence of the garden’s green
Becomes shrouded in a hazy but perceptive shadow
Conquering the secrets of the mysterious hills
That lie beyond the knowledge of mere innocent stone.

Never permit children to lose that innocent shell of stone
That erodes as skin toughens and wrinkles, like dried out grass.
Although the inevitable growth of maturity, as sure as the great size of hills
As sure as the beauty of the sinful man and woman,
Invades young minds that feign to linger in their youthful shadow.
O’ let them revel always, in the secrets of our globe of green!

Let innocent eyes never turn the envious green –
For gluttony is what comes of gaining the emptiness of decayed stone.
The hollow core of humanity staring into the abyss-like shadow
Of Heavenly sinners who walked the path, paved with gluttonous grass
Littered with cracked carcasses of innocence of the newly-grown woman
Who no longer marvels, barely noticing nature’s mountains and hills.

Let make-believe run wild through God’s munificent hills
That flow through minds, flushed with the flourishing green
Of leaves that once clothed the ignorant man and woman
Who were dressed in their immortal, dying stone.
Make-believe, ever-present upon the shields of grass
That lie beneath each innocent and unassuming shadow.

Praying to those mystical hills within our stone-protected shadow,
Where green temptation of knowledge never coaxes the curious woman
To give up the peaceful, ignorance of stone that lays upon Eden’s grass.

Written By…Nicole Paton


Author Notes

This is a sestina in the style of Dante Alighieri’s.

© Nicole Paton. All rights reserved

Bitterbud / Late Night Poets @AllPoetry.com