I will not bore you with the long and convoluted story that has led to this decision, but suffice it to say that I have lucid reasons for doing what I am about to do.
If you are not a fan of poetry, please, I beg you don't torture yourself by reading further. I realize that poetry in today's society is a bit like dinosaurs. Fascinating from a vast distance, but who wants to really meet a T Rex In person?
But due to the formerly mentioned convoluted story, I plan to post a poem every week until I run out of 'em. All are of my own making. I hope they are not too inscrutable. But you know how poems are, kinda shy. . . or at least they used to be.
A handful have already appeared in this diary, so if you see a repeat, sorry if that annoys.
Okay, no more apologies.
(Would somebody cue the Brontosaurus? I'm certainly not going to do it)
A Beam of Light
A beam of light, a shade of blue.
The shadows at dusk, the memory of a fragrance.
The stroke of a brush, the turn of a phrase.
The breath of a song, the line of the horizon.
Each of these can be our teacher.
A truth can be revealed by a discarded paper cup.
There are no limitations to moments of awe.
They are not confined to mountain heights
Where only the strong and idle may roam.
They live among the common things of life.
A crust of bread, a fallen leaf.
A breeze that touches our hair.
Water running over our hands.
A passing word from a stranger.
All things at hand, all things within reach.
Every moment of every day
Can become the gate to Wonder.
If you are not a fan of poetry, please, I beg you don't torture yourself by reading further. I realize that poetry in today's society is a bit like dinosaurs. Fascinating from a vast distance, but who wants to really meet a T Rex In person?
But due to the formerly mentioned convoluted story, I plan to post a poem every week until I run out of 'em. All are of my own making. I hope they are not too inscrutable. But you know how poems are, kinda shy. . . or at least they used to be.
A handful have already appeared in this diary, so if you see a repeat, sorry if that annoys.
Okay, no more apologies.
(Would somebody cue the Brontosaurus? I'm certainly not going to do it)
A Beam of Light
A beam of light, a shade of blue.
The shadows at dusk, the memory of a fragrance.
The stroke of a brush, the turn of a phrase.
The breath of a song, the line of the horizon.
Each of these can be our teacher.
A truth can be revealed by a discarded paper cup.
There are no limitations to moments of awe.
They are not confined to mountain heights
Where only the strong and idle may roam.
They live among the common things of life.
A crust of bread, a fallen leaf.
A breeze that touches our hair.
Water running over our hands.
A passing word from a stranger.
All things at hand, all things within reach.
Every moment of every day
Can become the gate to Wonder.