Poet’s Corner – Reflections

Some might say life is a dying game; and technically, it might be, mortally speaking.  I mean, the very second we are born, the flesh, the organs, the time to live what you are taught to live, starts ticking.  So I will give you that for the sake of just not finding it important enough to debate.

But certainties cannot be overlooked.  Even when a piece of art is completed, the brushes are put away…yet, the art still evokes.  Even when the last note or word is written, the hum continues thru the days and often the words are copied for lovers or Mothers.  Even when the sculptor is done molding…pedestals are being made so it may sit to greet others, for sometimes centuries.  All, from a moment in one’s mortal life.   

A flower rises up to inspire and then leaves, while we savor its time.  A storm, even watched from under a blanket, trembling, charges life in ways far beyond the electrical grids and always passes into the night.  Stars shoot; tornadoes land; pets love you until their end.  And yet, their love never leaves us.  This happens with all of our loved ones, including you and me.

Let’s go back to this dying game?  Everything has a beginning and an end.  And so, I have to believe, we never lose.  We only gain.  We always make room for another story; another lesson.  We always have one more wish in our heart’s pocket…for ourselves and often another.

In all of the ugliness we witness, I have to ask why.  Yes, it can put me under a blanket, trembling.  But I am living.  And this too shall pass, whether I remain mortal or not.  And while I may sometimes be trembling, I am remembering the rose.  She has been on this planet long before Jesus walked the earth.  She has seen centuries come and go; been hacked; diseased, yet she continues to grow in our gardens in poetic ways.  I think of lives which have touched me and showered their wisdom upon me.  

I think dying is a mortal thought and an essential action. Because like the rose, we have a season and a rebirth, waiting.  And I think living tells me I am here, always.  And I believe you are, too.  This is what life is; this is what love brings.

Top photo: Bigstock