Friday, March 28, 2014

And There's the Peace

And There’s the Peace
It’s said that all that lives is truly one.
Yet life devours what lives with scant remorse.
And though we’re linked together in a web,
Like stars, we burn in dismal loneliness.

And some forget this as they live their lives.
They find connections and their sense of place.
But comes a time, when ties are severed and
With what they are, they then come face to face.

They spend their years, their labor and their lives
And when they realize they’ve little left,
How many then must bear futility
As one more weight to carry till the end?

We let the world define our roles and selves,
And when the act or play has ended, then
We look for yet another role to play
Or else despair and curse our nothingness.

But there’s a thread, unbroken, in our lives,
That can’t be sensed until we turn away
From all the sound and fury of the race
And find, within, our gentle, silent place.

How many are the horrors that we face --
How fierce, the wars that ravage lands for years...
But even where the wars are distant, there
We toil and suffer in our little hells.

How many live, while wishing they could die,
From death prevented by their duties or
Their fears?  Tormented are their weary days,
Demented are their nights, as reason ebbs.

But some there are, who find philosophy,
That ancient balm that served the ones before.
It still can let the ravaged pauper find,
In losses, more of comfort than in gains.

The less one has, the freer is the soul.
There’s less of worry.  Where’s the fear of loss
When nothing’s left?  And yet, where one sees naught,
Another sees the treasure true that’s left.

The eye that still can see, the ear that hears,
The nose and tongue that smells and tastes – and yes,
The skin and heart that senses pleasure, pain –
Who asks for more, when such things still remain?

And when, like all that blooms and wilts and drops,
These leave in turn, there’s freedom in their place.
We turn from sound and light to silence, dark.
And there’s the peace that all the world has lost.

Observe the grandma with her grandchild. See
The love that flows from her to offspring’s child.
But grandmas wise remember it's a role
And so prepare for when that act will end.

When those we loved have long departed, gone,
We've still the strangers whom we serve in turn
With humble acts of kindness, while we can,
And gratitude for those who do the same.

The stars above will burn and fade away,
And who will mourn, for each of them, the loss?
We do not know the reason why we came,
But let us leave in love and gentleness.

2014 March 27th, Thu. night & 28th morning
Bensonhurst, Brooklyn, New York

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