Apposite Ness

There is a little thistle bush

Above the roaring sea

And this tiny little thistle bush

Hung high and precariously

Its fingers dug into the stone

The mammoth standing all alone

Its mighty face unmoved by shadow

The storms above the sea far below

While this small little thistle bush

Hung between the sea and sky

And this bristle little thistle bush

With roar of waves and sea bird cry

No longer could recall its own life story

How it came to rest upon the promitory

From distant lands bathed in spice

Where inscenced air infused all life

And flowers tropical and large

Perfumed the sail of junk and barge

That sailed the rivers twixt collumns bare

Half eaten statues of the Huntress and the Hare

Where lazy ivy coiled round long lost words

Recalling songs only the stones had heard

Was this the home from where this bush hailed

Upon the wind's delicate wings had sailed

And carried aloft by the wonton breeze

Into the feathered arms of the night, its ease

Did take in the frosty vaults of the star's abode

Pulled in the celestial maelstrome around the lode

And there in boreal frosty heavens it brushed

Upon telesian trails trod by angels hushed

And there it sought it's roots to grasp

And draw the ambrosia that drips from angelic gasps

But the celestial glass would afford no hold

And the frozen star's of heaven were too cold

And so departing from the gates of the night

It continued on it's sojourning flight

Long was the night that led to the dawn

Long was the wait until new life was reborn

Long was the trail that the thistle seeds took

For earth could not compare once upon heaven looked

And finally caught up in the fickle Zephyrian bands

That swept it amidts clouds of these foreign lands

Where the flash of Jove cut the clouds with fire

And the rain fell as stones while the wind roared with ire

And the sea churned white with foam and dread

And the stirrer of storms called forth the drowned dead

And amidst all this there was caught the thistleseed

That searched for any place to land and bleed

Until the wind buffeted it against the iron cliff face

And over and again it felt life to be erased

But then as darkness enclosed the husk

And the light of day was enveloped in dusk

There was a second spark then born

As the seed then was completely transformed

And so the little thistle bush came to rest

Upon the cliff face that all life did detest

And it clung there with all of its might

Burned in the day and frozen in the night

But it refused to give up its desperate fight

And instead was changed into the painter's delight

For with raging sea foam crested below

And churning heavens with sunlight aglow

And unmoved antedeluvian cliffs of stone

A single bush of green persevered alone.