“It starts in peace and runs through pain
and ever back and round again.”
The sun that rises shines for you,
in all you say and all you do.
And if it shines in winter’s cold,
there’s wisdom yet in growing old.
A moment
is a moment
is eternity
is now
is gone
is lost
is found
is waiting
and ever more shall be.
She bottles the hours, and saves them.
See them on the shelves,
beside the seashells.
“This is for sunshine,
this for rain.”
Breathe her perfumed hours,
the sea spray and foam.
I forget the time.
The tide is rising,
close to touch.
They walk in mists,
and do not see.
For all their light,
they do not see.
“We have our little secrets, sweet.”
Distant thunder,
and gray clouds.
And the sunset?
The moon, for you.
Empty vapors,
solid emptiness,
a million shining strands.
“Midnight is for dreaming.”
Scent of hours lost to thought;
she breathes and remembers.
The rising falling waves sound
of empires, cities, and lives…
Sweetness of dreaming,
another innocence.
And in the morning…
It shines for you.