Tablet And Water Poem by Phillip Ellis

On a dreamlike summer evening,
I searched for the tablet
on which I'd write
my name, reaching
out for comets falling
ever downwards
into the nothingness of earth.

According to the elder tales,
it were possible to find
a fallen comet melting fast
upon the human soil,
and, taking it up, and
placing within a cup or
beaker, save it, the water.

And, taking this water
to till the soil with, it were
possible to irrigate, say,
a plum tree with that
that gleams like silver
from the moon
on a dreamlike summer evening.

And, growing faster
than any tree ever, the plum
would wave itself according
to the ways and means of winds
from space, and never any
human wind, that blows
across this human world.

And the fruit, the fire
in skin, the royal hue, the dream
of sweetness cascading
through the mouth,
the eater soon would dream
of space, and in the morning
find the plum tree broken, withered.