* after seeing the Grand Canyon
Vistas, rag-rugged edges, much our crown as a heron’s Comb overcome the greening shrubbery and overgrowth, But meandering way below gushes the river Colorado.
Stand, breathlessly, enthused before fence-barred edges On either its more peopled South rim, or lesser visited North rim, and swallowed in its rust-rock expanse,
A catharsis of sorts rekindles, intoning archaic dreams Dear their top tier totem: however prickly we reach, Unlike here—we may not touch our Tao of love.
Genie to ingénue withstanding the zenith intricacies Of said loss sure superseded this place’s mysteries, Unscripted, spirited like some wounded person,
God, mourning covenant irrevocably broken— Plummeted causing this second Eden.