Steep mountain sides suffuse

pain along with endurance

chaos in the midst

of the thirsty wheat fields

desire at war with consciousness

and so many steps in front of

your mesmerizing brush

yet the task remains a focus.

Chaos, war, famine and

the mediocrity of city humdrum

endlessly dictate the worth of

man’s carnal appetites when

the realm of order appears

from behind dark clouds

a sun always yearns and

the cherubic wind in consonance

with all splendour this first

everlasting morning and

every short evening, ordered

rapport, uniformity slyly comes forth

an orderly nascent heaven

the heavenly order with

which you fashion your

ethereal structures.

Somehow your world and

ours make sense

somehow your creation and

our lives make sense.

Is it because of its base or

because of its celestial foundation?

Is it because of your vision or

because of the Cretan sun?

Jealousy, envy, chaos,

hunger, misery, littleness

steep mountain sides erected

in front of your vision

yet your ardour and energy

overcome all obstacles

great fuser of life what

can ever stop you?