Glacier Bay In Pure Light

Sky makes the scene believable. Twice the proportions, twice the ice, At 500 ft, the symmetry Is the god of piercing blue, The deity of lonesome liquid, Pure white and yet sad color In the cold, in the heart Of the glacier, and its eyes. The giant is a testament, (as giants go: O Goliath) To be tumbled, to be relieved Of air in the ice ridden lungs, Of this temporary hugeness: A ship of David’s wonder Who they truly are. The water, a life outside of pain, Remembering where a cell rose, Constant, from one bay to the next, From one detached chunk on its way To miracles, to sea homes Lost in multiple vastness, In vestibules of cold. Two worlds Joined under one frozen Identity; chunks of personality. (The ones in the know think of Europa; how close we are, how Solid the frigid possibilities.) It is everything Movable, immovable And indifference to motion, Meropia in the moment, A prayer to see, touching What is wide but, also, beyond it. And where are the ones not here? Alive in the vision: Eternity as a painting: art to imbibe.