“When the World Was Young” a poem

When the world was young,
    easy to see God's handiwork done;
Creation ongoing in every blossom and bloom,
    Even Winter's darkness held naught of our doom;
Dervish whirling, phantasmagorical in hue,
    everything natal, spring-fresh and new;
The feeling of wonder and erotic joy,
    captured in every rainbow, flower and toy;
Vibrating, pulsing in psychedelic repose,
    the splendor of life in the very first rose;
Loves' beginning, melodious stirring of breast,
    pounding out heartsongs in the land of the blessed;
Emanating, reflecting, absorbing each scent,
    indulgent, radiant, my spirit dancing went;
Into and out from each color and form,
    essence embraced, cuddling and warm;
Each breath holy, a waterfall of sensation,
    each sigh refulgent, action without hesitation;
Sometimes a trigger - sound, sight or smell,
    hurls me back some thought from the well,
of the worlds beginning, and my younger days,
when I was a lad, not so set in my ways.