I Do Not Know Poem by Mark Trajano

Six clay jars were filled with all these: water, fire, earth, and air.
Through the day, spectrums change in increasing intensity
as light illuminates the bewildered bearer with lov’n care,
glowing spectacularly, softly, with all sincerity.

First in the cycle of the four, she shall reach out with white waves
like riding the wind and crashing into the shore softly.
Driven by her nature to return, divinity, she saves.
Sands’f obscurity washed ‘way from senses’ reality.

Second in the rising, he shall be felt with commanding streams.
Consuming the flows of thy Self that goes against The Path.
Setting them ablaze, turning them into ashes that redeems
the whole Spirit like a Phoenix born without smears of wrath.

Third of the four blessings to manifest with the season’s best,
born to be moulded and serve as a solid foundation
for everybody to walk on, behold God’s wonders, and rest
when it’s the gentle moon’s time to shine as in the vision.

In His time, she came to be from His nostrils, giving us life.
Mystery fills every breath, blooming
in the valleys of poisons; like a knife,
cutting through every vein precisely, singing.

After the six clay jars returned to their original form,
elements spilled into the universe like waterfalls
drenching every creation, elegantly, el’ments perform.
Existing never became the same- life shattered these walls.

Basking still, in the grace that was left for one to multiply,
orchestras of delight, fears, smiles and tears come together
playing to the tune of the foolish and the wise, one will cry
expressing extreme highs and lows until this time will alter.