Friday, March 23, 2012

Friday's flower falls

Job chapter 28

There is a mine for silver
   and a place where gold is refined.
Iron is taken from the earth,
   and copper is smelted from ore.
Mortals put an end to the darkness;
   they search out the farthest recesses
   for ore in the blackest darkness.
Far from human dwellings they cut a shaft,
   in places untouched by human feet;
   far from other people they dangle and sway.
The earth, from which food comes,
   is transformed below as by fire;
lapis lazuli comes from its rocks,
   and its dust contains nuggets of gold.
No bird of prey knows that hidden path,
   no falcon’s eye has seen it.
Proud beasts do not set foot on it,
   and no lion prowls there. 

People assault the flinty rock with their hands
   and lay bare the roots of the mountains.
They tunnel through the rock;
   their eyes see all its treasures.
They search the sources of the rivers
   and bring hidden things to light.

Friday's flowers fall,
kissing red dust in helpless servitude. 

Miner's horn echoes out across the valley,
shift changes,
bowel of earth disgorges weary bodies. 
Fat, drunk and lazy
on the spoils of the rich seam you placed there long ago. 

Rich reward exploited
halts the march toward the wisdom of life. 
Mind questions not
when fed, bathed and rested,
soul shakes off the peril of dark night. 

Mining means Wisdom's fineries inverted
to present world weary face
to vanity's show. 

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