Diametrically composed into intractable condition,
Juxtaposed a ghost in motion just exposed its own position,
Black and blue attractive moon contracts the ocean back and forth,
A metronomic cardiac contraption balancing the North,
Begat the very function of the question what to do at all,
From whence the clarions upon the air they carried beck and call,
Within despair rejoice the variance of choice to question where,
Upon what stone our feet call home around the roaming of the bear,
How tall to build a wall to ground a sprawling castle made of sand,
Expanding down and up to crown the clouds into a falling stand,
The hearty gestures of a hand command expressions of a will,
Concretions lined and more refined before the pining of the still,
The heaven's chariots await the fates of clarity in cause,
The gates of purpose serve to pose a question worthy of our pause,
The hands of just that balance must entrust with us the choice of mission,
Balanced dice may not roll twice the same intractable condition.
Photo via WikiCommons
This poem is an entry for @robyneggs's poetry competition.