Nicholas Knowles

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Memories of Nick

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White eyes face while red eyes race                                        toward some place.

Steely beasts run                                                                       eyes burn bright                                                                                Grey path witness                                                                             steely beasts flight.

Crow flies high, bearing above the place                                        of Earth's disgrace.                                                                      And we travel on,                                                                          as fast as we can.                                                                     Past the river of old, now gentle brook,                                          all that remains                                                                              of what once earth shook.

And though this place may seem the end,                                        the road continues, twists and bends.                                            Eye of horizon, farthest point.                                                       Further still we fly                                                                  Shadow shielded mountain side                                                     closer, closer as we ride.

Fine pine, finds purchase.                                                             Stones embrace                                                                        buries secrets old, sought by bold.                                               To be sold on the road.

            N.K.  98

Published in the 1999 Oracle                                              Onondaga Community College                                                Student Newspaper

Life is sweet and never fleet                                                         when you're in the garden.

Wayward though One distraught                                                   When she took from the tree the tiny seed                                      from which all things grow.

The mind is so small before the fall.                                             Before the feasts release the beast.

It calls!  To you it calls!                                                    Temptations sweet release.                                                             To surrender now seems best.                                                        Enter now the serpents nest.

But now that you have crossed                                                 Beyond the line of fallen grace                                                           And driven from this tranquil place                                                 The horizon seems so much farther than before.

If offered now a wayward glance                                                        A second line another chance.                                                   Surely you would turn away                                                               For you are larger now today.

The garden seems a tiny place.                                                         It limits mind and limits space.                                                        And with the fall you have glimpsed it all.                                          To go back now is not to do.                                                            Not for me and not for you.

               N.K.  98

Published in the 1999 Oracle 

Onondaga Community College                                                           Student Newspaper