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Ravenous Roots

Ravenous Roots

Because the stairway above our heads

leads to the world of roaming ghosts

and galloping unicorns,

because the sun is

the moon’s exuberant twin brother

and her undying dawn,

we must suffer the somber span

of moments;

this bitter worship,

this delicate death

only granted

to the animal heart.


Billowing from burnt homes

is the smoke

of lived years

traveling far past

the atmospheric lines

to embrace some ethereal atom

in dark divinity.


What matters in this universe?

Ants scrambling

over their collapsing mounds?

April snow melting

on a quiet mountain peak?

Our unsung souls

as vague and fluid as time?


In defiance,

may our bodies occupy

their birth-space

like ravenous roots

that penetrate


and stone.

Jim Zola 675DC4F9-2C15-4B6C-B6DA-57E28D416349.jpeg
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