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  • Light

    Light

    Golden, glowing warmth greets dawn,
    sparking our oldest sense
    as vastness opens again
    in glorious splendor.

    Brilliant fire and gentleness—
    every perfect hue in depth of light or shadow
    weaves unique and fleeting tapestry
    when clouds reflect the heavens and dewdrops glint like treasure.

    Morning breathes sweet, fragrant welcome
    as myriad plants and creatures awake with purpose;
    a symphony arises as all engage the moment
    in harmonious presence.

    Humans who stomp the surface
    and disregard these wonders
    try to make important
    what isn’t.

    We wine, bicker and fret—
    petty, selfish and ignorant—
    unfit to share the Glory—
    and eons of dawns won’t care.

    JPTIII 10/31/18


  • #2
    John I enjoyed this particularly your line that ends it. Love the idea that dawns won't care

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    • #3
      Thank you, Parkinsonspoet. It's one of very few of mine that don't rhyme. I'm not much of a real poet!

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