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The Promise

Creation tends to double ways
When it comes to working wonders,
Pits a night of blues and greys
Against a day’s hot splendours;

And if the right hand raise a sun,
In the left is borne a daughter,
One to forge a fiery reign
And one to sway the water.

Onward with contrarious wheels,
The world’s in perpetual motion;
We stand, fly, change goods for ills,
Swap continent and ocean.

But still among distinguished halves
Moves one that is whole and total:
Some may admire golden calves;
I rise to a higher symbol.

The yin and yang that China sees
Revolves a white and a black side;
You resolve in finer peace
The sweet pair of your backside,

Where neither twin takes precedence,
Both bend and swell to globes that glance,
Kiss cheek to cheek, and so dance,
Spheres in heavenly balance.

And one day all our world shall be
As well-made as your bottom is:
Beauty, bounty, equity,
It shall be. That’s the promise.


John Gibbens, from The Promise

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