Infinity Poem by Roman Pines

The years flew and like seashells in slumber
days opened up their heavy pearly valves:
between entwined branches peering in wonder
into the pitch black of the distant intervals.

Bright was the garden arising before the beholding sky:
in the foam of blossoms and leaves, in saffron attire
of golden resins and grass in the meadow’s fire
of floating sparkles of sunlight impeccably molten.

The years flew and turned the garden view
into one’s life tended by sun like water lilies glowing.
Through sky’s enormity were constellations floating
into the endless world that has been made by You.