Beautiful poet, your lines pristine as new fallen snow,
drift now in hazy sky. Posture not but sleep and dream
What was isn't, what is will change in future days. Scurry not rat-like forsaken; sip sweet nectar and breathe in the silken breeze.
Often told, thy enemy is self. Plagued deep in sentiment, one can drown in the swill of depression. Fear not, for the sun will shine again, Spring thaw releasing the land from Winter's hoary hand. Dream on to budding flowers and the greenery that surrounds you along with bird sounds and the song of the babbling brook. Leap high as golden carp chasing red umbrellas, deep down a smile is waiting to kiss your lips. Spread your arms to all you see, embrace the glorious. Be a child again chasing sunbeams as horsetail clouds race across the sky. Enjoy the magic of metamorphosis, that fuzzy caterpillar friend you talked to on a leaf, is someone else entirely, ethereal as it wings by. We too change, learning from exposure the lessons of life. How to overcome, and battle on, and when to rest, heaven blest. We're not Gods, though made in the image of one, yet how much we accomplish. One could lay down and die, thrash and cry, and what would that accomplish? When wearied and beaten down I often wondered what I would miss if I were to give up. Night is always the harbinger of fear, that looks less horrible in morning light.
What might you miss?
I can't answer for you my friend, only for me. I would have missed years and hours and minutes with my precious loved ones, three now gone, but never forgotten. I'd have missed so much time with my beautiful daughter and I would never have learned that I could raise myself upon life's ladder. Most of all I would have missed the joy of my precious granddaughter Abby, now 23 months old, who is the hope of all my tomorrows. None of this would have come to pass if I had given in when I felt forsaken.
Each day is a beautiful gift, not to be taken for granted.
Open the strings, experience the surprise.