At the Centre
This single fruit
On its dark vine
Instructs the mute
Sun how to shine.
Around this rosy
Core the stars
Pursue their lazy
Wind-blown course.
(What tenuous twist
In these sleek sides
Thus to resist
Tremendous tides!)
It is no wonder
Men in fear
Would still the thunder
Hidden here.
Beset and driven,
A single thrust
Will prove that even
This is dust.
Structure
20 lines · 2 stanzas