The melting pot on eastern brink
Brims once again with golden-pink
As we embark another day
On living’s loving, learning way
The imminence of what will be
Gleams on a tide we cannot see
While ebony of slumber’s sky
Dissolves into the by and by
Ethereal river, soundless force
Mighty, rushing, muted discourse
Of moment-sparkles whisper-cast
Surging from future to the past
Where is the fount forging your lot?
Where is the sea of gathered naught?
Oh mystic mien of smile and strife
How subtly you shape a life
© Janet Martin
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I hope you enjoyed your pause on this porch and thank-you for your visit!