has it occurred to you
all our prayers are to father time,
hold it back, slow it down-
then what?
is death such a natural disease
life so much fuller
when you see an end to it
for all the idioms
for all the centuries
we spend time on petulance
disregard beauty
those small wonders
and are we joyous?
there is flavor in a stormcloud
mixed with freshness, new grass
and a garden's seasonal blooms
texture in moonlight,
grainy suns with spots of color,
more vivid than a starlit night
why are they not important to us
how do they pale in insignificance
when all around we hold onto sadness,
watch misery and feel helpless
then there is your face,
one i tell myself lights my days
this is consummate; all there is
sometimes
the unbearable weight of being
shows me this is enough
Adding your comment:
