The Sparkling

The acorn woke in Eden,
long tomorrow in her eyes,
“your Majesty, I’m pleading,
make me fleet of root and wise?”

The lord he looked on kindly,
“this little cup mote flicker,
be thou with earth and binding,
amidst the wood be quicker.”

And so it came to passage
the acorn sent her rootlet
where water and stone say mass
and the mystic spark lies moot.

One night a storm did swelter,
the cup now a mighty oak,
a lightning struck her shelter
with a bifurcating stroke.

And that’s how it came to be
the acorn spoke electric
sparkling of infinity
long within the hex of things.

Be thou likewise with the root,
be thou strong and weft with wyst,
be thou of magnetic moot
across the shining abyss.

Be thou as the acorn cleft,
swift with knowledge, deft with gift.

^

Biography

Jack is still living in the hippie sixties out on the Woodstock edge. He's a guitar player, stone mason, and (so we've been told) a really good cook.