The clouds wash into earth,
a waterfall guarding the entrance
to the heavens and gods
Olympus’ polished marble gates
awaits at the seat of the snow
Hephaestus’ pure smoke,
breathes tufts down the falls
A palace for the good and stingy
The perfect balance between love and deceit
A place where gods sleep
and art flows like a river
Billowing bushes
bushels of white cloud and holy water
Feed into the ungrateful earth
Cusped into dusted, unworthy hands
And brought to the lips of promising children
She sings your praises from the heights above
Bringing fertility to your town,
Good harvest to your crops,
And Great luck to your mines
So hand-picked humans
In arm-opened houses
Would taste the humid aromas
Down at the feet
Of the deities' waterfall
About the Creator
Mya Doerksen
Hi there, I'm a student, a writer and an aspring author. At the moment I'll mostly be posting shorts, school assignments or challenge submissions.
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Comments (3)
Nice from you.
I’ve read this several times, my jaw on the ground. I can’t get over how good it is! This especially: bushels of white cloud and holy water Feed into the ungrateful earth Cusped into dusted, unworthy hands And brought to the lips of promising children It makes me think of how the ancients went to mountain tops to speak to their gods, while now we just turn on a tap and have this life sustaining liquid from the heavens flow into a glass. Maybe that’s why people are godless and ungrateful.
This was so magical and mesmerising! Awesome poem!