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NEVER STOP REACHING
I know a man
who bears aging as
a series of benchmarks,
seasons where
understanding deepens,
and LIFE becomes more fascinating,
a time when each souls search for beauty
reveals itself in endless forms…
I know a man also,
who ponders AGING in
fearful respect of death’s
vast and terrible depth,
and is terrified by
its hunger, its inexhaustibility, and
the whole dread persistent hugeness of it…
I know another man too, who
worships God in spirit and truth, and
who accepts aging as an act of GOD’S GRACE,
a process that should no more straiten a soul
than the moons snowy luminance as it
pirouettes with swaying trees…
(This same man) observes
that no matter what your age,
Heaven’s rains
still refresh,
and moist rich soil
yields its musty fragrance, as
flowers spring forth, and bloom and fade,
in an unappeasable passage of seasons…
We being as flowers too….
Notwithstanding the many fears, and
gathering years, weighing heavily at times,
Mockingbirds still delight
in the higher branches
with their colorful
fire of conjurations, even
as winter’s snow deepens,
and each heart strains through
memories portion of impermanence…
The intensely
aching beauty you see
being just within your grasp, has a
heat that burns when you reach for it…
whether it’s
yours or not, is NOT
in your power to understand,
But never stop reaching…
