The Truest Stone Will Cry Out

Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem

If you were water stored inside a stone,

What should your color be?  Would blood choose blue,

A brilliant blue, a blue that God would own

As color of his very soul, as true

As blue’s eternity in William Blake,

His palm and fingers, blue so total in

Its shine that even stone, inside, would shake

All other colors from your soul so sin

Would disappear forever in lost time?

Eternity, its vampire fangs, would bite

And help you choose, would be your spirit’s prime

Election of the nth of ringwoodite.

  Predestination’s hues cannot reject

    The staunchness of this choice’s effect.

~ Phillip Whidden