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Ocelot's Poetry and Songs

	The Greatest Beauty
	When first the tongue of heaven's fire touched the ridge of springing trees I thought I list'd to nature's lyre amidst the wind-tossed crimson leaves. I saw the mountains and I thought no greater beauty could be found. The hill and vales for vision fought horizon's edge to touch the ground. So I set off to find another place to view that holy face, and wait, the hills and clouds above her turned to ocean in that place. The rolling hills - the rolling waves; the billowed clouds - the wave that crashes. Suddenly the sunlight's rays flashed as by the drips refracted. Here the crimson faded ever off to violet with the night. Here the sky and ocean severed, quiet, nothing, out of sight. "This," I said, "is truly beauty!" Not a doubt remained behind. Then I turned to one who knew me; then I knew, and changed my mind.
Kevin Metcalf
1999