Nodes
In Between the Cliff Walls, White Mountains, New Hampshire https://www.facebook.com/NightmutePhotography/ |
There are places and times, in the course of our lives,
When we seem to be able to be
At the pivots of space and of time—that are still,
As the eye of the storm in the sea.
So the universe gyres around us and yet
We seem to be frozen in place.
There are nodes that are still that exist in the swells
Of the ocean of time and of space.
There's the sea and the sky and the water and air.
There's the land with its rock and its earth.
And they pass through us each as we pass through these things,
As the spirit that's given us birth.
There are times when we trek through the ravines and see
The stars and the hand of the dawn.
Then we're grateful we've lived to have tasted of grace
In our time on this planet we're on.
In the depths of despair, in the darkness of grief,
In the sorrow and madness of war,
We have glimpses of things, without and within,
That remind us of all that we are.
We're no more than the ants and no less than the gods.
We are passing, like hues in the sky.
And yet we are born and can open our hearts
And our minds—and that innermost eye.
2016 May 18th, Wed.
At the pivots of space and of time—that are still,
As the eye of the storm in the sea.
So the universe gyres around us and yet
We seem to be frozen in place.
There are nodes that are still that exist in the swells
Of the ocean of time and of space.
There's the sea and the sky and the water and air.
There's the land with its rock and its earth.
And they pass through us each as we pass through these things,
As the spirit that's given us birth.
There are times when we trek through the ravines and see
The stars and the hand of the dawn.
Then we're grateful we've lived to have tasted of grace
In our time on this planet we're on.
In the depths of despair, in the darkness of grief,
In the sorrow and madness of war,
We have glimpses of things, without and within,
That remind us of all that we are.
We're no more than the ants and no less than the gods.
We are passing, like hues in the sky.
And yet we are born and can open our hearts
And our minds—and that innermost eye.
2016 May 18th, Wed.
4 comments:
Thank you, that was lovely.
Thanks, Leila. I have been slowly reading your Canticles book. It is wonderful. Not being a literary person, I read slowly and have to read each poem several times. It gets clearer and better with each reading. Thanks again! Stay well.
Another beautiful piece. Thank you.
Many thanks, Benoy, for reading this, for your comment here at the blog-post and for your e-mails.
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