Glacial Memory

Like the luckiest
of old men,
whose worst memories
have finally perished,
the glacier lets go its excess:
the water, minerals, dirt, and other particles,
freeing them upon
long voyages and forays
to the seven seas,
whether
whisked along by the wind
or spun down into the depths
near the vents to the inner earth
whence life came,
and so too
as vapor to the highest mountains
or
liquified, drunk by the luckiest men
in steel houses rising high
as the tallest earthen peaks,
who worried of the glacial recession
and rising tides.

Like the best memories
of old men,
memories of their childhoods,
wrestling in the sand
learning to build by hand,
so too the water, minerals, dirt, and other particles
returned,
they replenished the shape of the glacier
and it stood tall again
between the twin peaks...

Even as it is said that
the majestic river it once was
could not be the same
since time flows on
and even when frozen,
cannot bask too long
in its recognition
of change enduring.

The sun crests the horizon,
glancing off the window of
the sky-reaching mammalian dwelling
in the foothills of the eastern peak,
and onto the great sheet,
which purposefully carves
the great earth's surface,
an unmatched sculptor—
removing that which is unnatural,
retaining only what is beautiful—
and when the great supplier rises higher,
his rays meet
the topmost layer of ice:

The melting is a chorus,
cracking in frigid air
echoes through the forests dressing the range,
cosmic tears are shed once again,
for memories of the earth's everlasting dance.

Also found on:
https://www.thinkspot.com/discourse/npuxPw/post/erik-van-mechelen/glacial-memory-poem/qLZtYr