The Final Gate To Eden Poem by John Scott Traczyk

The vanished travelers
are cultivating an undesigned virtue

they have followed overgrown carriageways
into the hills
begging each measure of beauty a sign

upholding their tarnished arms
in a sleepless duty
they implore the grace of a star cloaked emperor
lost deep in the sky

sweeping through conversations
of gold and of wheat
each flightless grasp
delivers the glimpse
of gossamer time and rivers unbending

a poverty of response from each form of the earth
and each sculpt of night
dilutes the pale with faces of angels
and dunes that bleed into days

frozen in struggle with ancient flocks
a march of bold capacity
stabs deep and bears down
to search the impossible note
un-played in their hearts
that completes the way

(5/09 jt)