Fire, earth, air and water

One of earth one of air, one lives dreams the other in poverty's care

Begun at birth both bare, sun gives beams, a mother's despair

Ever flowing river, not to be held, dancing flames burning delight

In blood deliver from belly swelled, romancing games, a yearning in white

Mother of fire, father of earth, destiny determined from their birth

Air ageless gold no rust does hold, a skirt of dirt comfortable in dearth

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

For me, I think of class differences...Rich or poor we are both born totally bare...
Equal...we all cry, we all wet our cribs..we all wear diapers...and yet when grown, some feel they are better than others...but are they?
In the end we will all turn to dust...and I don't think the dust will be any different, either.
Love this poem.
j.

[Soren]

Love your take on this poem Jacob. You are right on each count. Thanks so much for reading and interpretating it my friend