Wednesday, August 1, 2012

Wayfarer of Moments

 (one could almost feel the exploding vibration of cricket-song here this morning...)

Dear little child, you don’t know it yet
A moment to you is simply a breath
A necessary means
To reach The Beckoning ahead

Moments trickle and gleam
A subtly disguised requiem
As restless you dance
To the melody of a dream

You do not hear the rush
Moaning through wildflower woven hush
Pushing to an ever-expanding hollow
Disguised by living’s underbrush

Rivulets of pleasure and pain
Course through a transient vein
Sweeping through summer’s bower
In a rising-falling refrain

Run, dear little child, run
Your intangible deliverance has begun
Into the vexing arms of life
And the jaws of the waning sun

Nay fly, dear little child, I say fly
Leap from the reels in the spiraling sky
Lest your Moment deflates
And your dream-well runs dry

© Janet Martin

Victoria is always counting down to something...making lists, anticipating...



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