Laughing
A Poem
The sea roars with laughter, for she is ever young yet ever ancient What can I do to add to her, or to take away? Every day she gives a little, and rains herself on the land The land gives back continually, and returns what has been lent The wind roars with laughter, making good of my juvenile folly He himself is mindless, and wanders without end or purpose None can understand him, or estimate his measure or quality He is then subject to none, for none can know him or name him The earth roars with laughter, the bitter laughter of a thousand nations This laugh is the laugh of derision, spiteful and weak Of all weak acts, a laugh of derision must be foremost This laugh is discordant, even with the madness of the wind So there is great and consistent longevity, mad and blind strength, and contempt What better is there than what is among them, and above them? What better is there than to laugh from joy? What is there that is not to laugh at? I roar with laughter, and it grows slowly, but with greater strength than the sea
This reminds me, somehow, of a poetry fragment that I wrote once—maybe just from the subject matter; your tone is much more solemn (solemn laughter):
To whom will you give the sky?
Sandy gave it to me.
“The sky is always changing,” she said,
“The sky will always be free.”
To whom will you give the stars?
The sun and the moon up above…
I always wanted to finish that one, but the ending always came out tacky somehow. You’ve managed to land this one rather nicely.
Haha