Paradox

Paradox

So strange this vast unlonely solitude;
Primeval force in every wayward mood;
A land not clothed with grass, not graced by wood.

Man cries, “O Desert, by what unknown art
Do you ensnare and thrall the human heart?”

His voice is lost in boundless windswept space;
Blank, burning mystery enshrouds the face
Of naked rock and blinding, sun-struck sand.
Man prays, “O Desert, let me understand!”

Sphinx-like the Desert smiles as it unlocks
Its open secret found in paradox:
Passionate calm and a silence that sings
Of the peaceful conflict of growing things.

Pastels of beauty wrought in harsh design;
Raw youth deep-scarred by age in every line;
Eternal drama, patient, fierce, serene,
With Life and Death co-starred on cosmic screen.

Man laughs, though tears are in his light-hurt eyes.
He whispers, “Desert, you have made me wise!
Your lure is my own yearning in disguise.

“I know from this one glimpse behind your mask,
My answer is the question that I ask.”

By NINA PAUL
Coachella, California (1937?) in an old Desert Magazine