Bright Refrain

25 04 2013

A rolling stone on rivers bed, moves slowly towards the sea.
Smoothing all abrasions there, the waters gift to thee.
I stop it on its stumbling course, and pluck it from the shore,
it’s smooth and rounded, edgeless mass, replaced by many more.

Time has left it’s ancient grace, upon this piece of earth.
A span we cannot comprehend, or judge it’s truth or worth.
For mortal man, an eon passed, is well beyond our mind,
we think in smaller segments, and our truth we leave behind.

A thousand years, perhaps by ten, is more than we envision,
while mother earth, began her spin, by years we count in billions.
Can any mortal comprehend, the journey she has made?
Or think themselves, the final truth, in mortal flesh that fades?

Seeing in the lamplight’s glow – the truth of what we are… unknown.
The mystery is really not – to be content with what we’ve got.
Our sentience, a gift and curse – the wild creatures sing the verse,
she taught to them before we came… and still they sing her bright refrain.




One response

29 04 2013
Charron's Chatter

this is a bit different than your style, Birch. I like that you are in it! And I adore the subject matter–what an interesting perception. Most folk don’t notice such things!! And it’s great that you do…that’s the poet in you.

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