An Insect Poem by Emmanuel George Cefai

An insect fast ascends the garden wall.
Slow its feet move
Though small perceptible
The feet become
As one with the twig
The waters dance
Below in the small pond;
All be sub-conscious yet
It breathes and snores.
The soil it breathes sub-conscious
Such the magic!
The Prophet rose erect
And
He was on the high mountain
The multitude at the foot
Grew ears the mountain
And awoke
Its caves and caverns
Echoed words and eager
Replies of the warm multitudes.
I told you many times
But you still
Stick to the Sub-Conscious
You felt in your marrow
And
Closed your eyes
Grating with your sorrow
Gyrating
In your first lights and morrow.


The
Path
We
Pass
Is
White
And
Horrible
Looks
On
The
Heights
Giddying
Below
It
Chilled
My
Marrow.

An insect fast ascends the garden wall.
Slow its feet move
Though small perceptible
The feet become
As one with the twig
The waters dance
Below in the small pond;
All be sub-conscious yet
It breathes and snores.
The soil it breathes sub-conscious
Such the magic!
The Prophet rose erect
And
He was on the high mountain
The multitude at the foot
Grew ears the mountain
And awoke
Its caves and caverns
Echoed words and eager
Replies of the warm multitudes.
I told you many times
But you still
Stick to the Sub-Conscious
You felt in your marrow
And
Closed your eyes
Grating with your sorrow
Gyrating
In your first lights and morrow.