What Gifts? Poem by David Lacey

What gifts shall this the new day bring?
What words that I shall sing?
Let us throw ourselves once more
Into the moment of creation,
Amidst the heat of destruction
The phoenix shall rise again,
Into new life,
Blessed with new name.

Brought forth from ash
All burning flame,
Bent and broken
Our dimensions letters sent,
Written in the tongues of elder trees
Slow groans of primeval secrets, please.
All from the soup that spurted legs,
All from the gas that grew as eyes,
From star forge into material purge,
Our nature’s favourite game.

Alchemy in motion, poetry the ocean
And life the volcano's roar,
In death new life does pour
And dark skies bring new light.
Promise of springtime,
Promise of sunburn,
Not here, not now in shivering
All senses perishing,
And shaking, withering
All bones intent on breaking,

Bent and broken
All secrets spent and spoken
You must listen if you wish to learn.