Saturnine&;#063;

A dim burble from the void.
At first ineffectual,
A five year old's drawing
Hung tremulous in the lens.

So you're there after all.
Spinning a silent distraction
Through ten billion years
And still not settled to substance.

A malcontent; a schemer.
What fresh misfortunes
Do you dream for the blue marble,
Our mother earth?

Children caught in Cassini,
Strum butterfly wings on the bell jar.
Their choirboy pleas
Sing of release from your prison rings.

Eternity pickled in amber.
While the furious orb spins swifter.

Till a desert land
Slakes its thirst with sand
For the killing that won't stop the war.

And far west of the Arans
The tsunamis build
To break their backs
On the ramparts of Moher.