I broke everything again —
The growing and the quiet;
Broken like a lilac plucked,
In such a hellish hurry to try it.

Now the world has shifted;
The beast is in the bed.
The royal afterglow is named;
'Round the sun our path's a cycle – dead.

A circle like the petals,
Purple as the bee approached,
Which I wantonly scattered —
Miracles too eagerly encroached.

The lazy buzzing grows
'Round the golden drifting pollen;
The searching, shifting, lilac sun
Soaks in grief, altogether sullen.

When shall I bask
In the budding green boughs again?
When the sun returns with orange fire,
To banish the beast from my den.

Lilac Stay Nameless

By Peter Harrison