Marking the spring equinox

Daylight tips the dark in half

As a boat in torrid waters rocks

the egg stands upright in hoax

One of the miracles of life

is seeing things in black or white

Where lines are not blurred

and distinctions are concurred

An illusion of a rightful balance

comes with a series of concussions

Setting off the slight notion

that there could be no motion

Change is permanent as they say

in spite of the words we pray

Every action has a reaction

but for some its just a faction

Who see things in technicolor

piling on drama and wonder

Two hands are not needed to clap

Besides the analogy is downright crap

To break a wall the mighty sword

strikes straight down with every word

Set in the extremities of life

are genius interventions derived

But moderation keeps you going

all along the Buddha’s way of adoring

Lighter angels cannot become ignoring

of the mighty demons that lay snoring

Only a wholesome tad of retribution

could instill a  worthy restitution

Of all the constant stirring revolutions

in the head, the heart, the confusion

There is a stretch of imagination

that pulls away from stark indignation

To set in balance a tender notion

that dis-solutes a gory concoction

For though earth pulled in all directions

offers two rare glimpses of equations

That cause a standstill of emotions

marking small and slight aberrations

The scientists call it an equinox

the psychologists call it a paradox

For there can be no plausible equals

in a world full of divergent peoples

While one looms over the other

the spitfire burns out the tethers

That said for the complexities

and all the other exponents of cities

But for all other earthly splendors

Balance is the natural parlance

For there is boundless pleasure

In sighting an equal measure.