There is an ache akin to grief
As you slip from me
Like a rain-drop from a leaf
To never-more-will-be
Ethereal droplets
Miniscule spheres
Too sheer for texture
Yet the timbre of years
I cannot feel you
Nor hold your glance
You come and you go
In an invisible dance
Ephemeral morsels
Are they jewel or stone
As they rest in a vault
Where the unknown is Known?
There is something akin to longing
To fill you with much
More than my floundering
As you slip from my touch
…into an ocean
Where past-scapes expand
In the trickling of moments
Slipping from my hand
© Janet Martin
It is an ache knowing the preciousness.
ReplyDeleteNice Janet.
Time is SO precious. I tried to explain it to my son yesterday. He is 14 and was GROANING at his 'boring day'. He has had way too much fun this summer:) Yesterday he was helping me,so I suggested that he try what I sometimes do on amorning that looks as domestic as the 500 previous:)...say, this is the day that the Lord has made I will rejoice and be glad in it! and then picture what the day is made of...it is a gift of 'nuggets' or moments and we fill those little bits turning them into jewels or dull stone as they slip away...
ReplyDeleteHe seemed to be a little more optimistic after that. My prayer is that someday down the road he'll remember.And THAT spawned in me the tender awareness once again of how brief our moments here really are!
The other day I recalled something my Grandma said to me often, 'This life is short no matter if we live to be 100. It's the next life that is long.'
Off to do some more corn today!