Aria 1

What, so bright,

in the Womb’s dear throes

so Stumbles,

and

Shines,

through blusters and

Crawls?

This laugh! This

Squeeze, here

sounding from

sheets,

now fits

so smooth,

in

Infant

Shawls!

Ah, what a face!

What arches,

what Eyes!

precious,

dear Innocence,

blooms

through its 

Falls!

These are the

Notes

To touch men’s

Souls,

and

Chuckle, we may

at a baby’s

Role,

But oh, so we are,

as we glance

Afar,

from childhood

to Summit,

but do

we

Control:

The sun as

it sets

on mirth

and 

glee,

as we

grow and

now Pay

Grief’s

earthly Toll?

See, where we

Are,

Dear lad

and lass,

from jumping

together,

to killing 

ourselves

Crass?

Cloudy

the stains

of skies

undermined,

where once,

infant cries,

turned playful

in

Grass

Now the

Notes grow sad,

with minds

inching mad,

with

the playground

crashed,

and warmth,

long Passed!

Still, come,

hand in hand,

does not

Hope

fill the

Land?

Nay, look what

we did,

now

severed,

and

Bland:

We tore the

Sheets,

And cut off

a man,

from all that he 

loved,

to

Take all we can,

and run,

with his

Land!

Never did

Grow,

so ugly

and low,

those infant 

cries

into

sultry

Command:

As now, far

from then,

such chuckles

become

Grimace!

Whose wonder

is it,

that love

dies in

Minutes?

Mine,

though

it’s not,

‘Twas dare,

I still sought, of

a Dream, still

of this:

a

Candle

Luminous

Therefore,

See,

how hearts

stay free,

And not 

again

Kill it:

the will

Infinite!

Not will we,

so blithely

amiss,

now

stumble to

travel,

through

Volumes, Six!

Death’s

close kiss

shan’t scare us

from this,

if but we

don’t miss,

the luster

in a hiss:

of the cat’s

sheer brawl,

and 

a bird’s

wings 

and all!

Hear, woman,

not remiss, will

I revere:

all yours,

and

His.

_________________

R.V. Smith: “Aria I”, 05-07-25

© 2025 by Ryan Vincent Smith