Beneath a concrete dome,
beneath a thousand million microscopic lights
that brighten, fade, converge and melt away,
the flowers bloom and grasses wave,
and tree-leaves shake and branches bend
in a slow sulphurous breeze.
Strange flowers, these, that bloom beneath the dome,
mottled with dark fungi like the moon with phantom seas—
Strange grasses, these, with phosphorescent glow,
that curl and writhe so restlessly beneath the mottled flowers—
And strange these trees whose trunks with ichor glisten,
whose branches join and subdivide with animal volition,
whose seeds burst from their pods and fall
and chitter in the grass.
And so, beneath the dome,
bustles with unseemly life this garden
whose amorphous sun of microscopic lights
streaks within an alien earth to strange and steel horizons. |
