The Rainbow Arc

 

Late in life a rainbow appears

as if from nowhere it embraces all

A monument to a personal testimony

A chronometer to the spurious nature of time

of dubious veracity, of doutful origin

Where does it begin or end

is anyone´s guess

Nothing distorts its perfect harmony

it climbs at an angle to its zenith

then falls to its demise

before the bowels of the earth

without losing one ounce of its celestial beauty

to be consumed, buried, dismissed

An artistic impression of a journey

through the vicissitudes of life

Birth as a root with life spent in chaos

then to the open jaws of eternity

a destiny unavoidable

as we tarry wearily along

The arc of many colours is a surrealistic dream

through which we glimpse cameos of reality

before touching mother earth

wreathed in mist and mystery

Then the arc is no more and never was