One of the most beautiful things about life
Is the way that it ebbs and flows
With the rhythms of the moon
With cycles that we know will come:
Dark nights with mysterious stars
Bright nights with majestic moonlight
Yet, when we look to the sky
We do not always know the moon
And where she stands
We do not always see her dance
Or feel her gentle and persistent pull upon our souls
One of the most beautiful things about death
Is the way it rises and sets
From the moment we are born
Death is walking beside us
Mostly silent and unknown
It follows us like a shadow
Usually we are unaware
But occasionally the brightness of life
Makes the shadow of death darker
And we see a grim reflection of our sun soaked self
Cast upon the grey pavement
The sun reveals the shadows
And it rises and sets with the same certainty
With which God disposes of our lives
One of the most beautiful things about poetry
Is that it allows the moon to pull upon the shadow
It allows the mortal person
Wandering across the grey concrete
To glimpse the brightness of what is typically dark
It gives colour to the shadows
And makes the moonlight shine
More brilliantly than the rainbow
What more beautiful gift could there be
Than to make death a source of life
To make the moon brighter than the sun
To make shadows clear as mirrors?
If you allow the shadows to reflect back to you
Your own inner condition
You will find that there is both deep darkness
And bright light dancing together
In the depth of your being
So, be a poet
My beloved Stranger
Be a poet
And preside over the marriage
Of the sun and the moon
Be a poet
And dance
In the radiant shadows of this beautiful life
Allow the flow of divine words
To stir your heart
Allow the grace of bright illumination
To dispel the darkness
And allow the ancient shadows
To cool the heat of the burning sun
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I’m so glad you were able to find some meaning in my words. Thank you for sharing!
These beautiful words are worthy of daily meditation, to dispel any fear.
Just as I’ve integrated into my soul the words of William Wordsworth, so I will these.
Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting,
The soul that rises with us, our life’s star,
Hath had elsewhere its setting,
And cometh from afar:
Not in entire forgetfulness,
And not in utter nakedness,
But trailing clouds of glory do we come
From God who is our home
I’m glad you think so! Thank you!
I who struggles with poetry think this is beautiful. Thank you for sharing.
Thanks! I’m glad you think so!
Beautifully said. and all of it true