anything
in your life
more wonderful
than the way the sun,
every evening,
relaxed and easy,
floats toward the horizon
and into the clouds or the hills,
or the rumpled sea,
and is gone–
and how it slides again
out of the blackness,
every morning,
on the other side of the world,
like a red flower
streaming upward on its heavenly oils,
say, on a morning in early summer,
at its perfect imperial distance–
and have you ever felt for anything
such wild love–
do you think there is anywhere, in any language,
a word billowing enough
for the pleasure
that fills you,
as the sun
reaches out,
as it warms you
as you stand there,
empty-handed–
or have you too
turned from this world–
or have you too
gone crazy
for power,
for things?
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Many have, sadly. Lovely poem.
Thanks for your comments, Terveen. Mary Oliver raises an important truth in her poem. One writer called it the difference between heart seeing and world seeing. When we see with the heart, life and what it offers take on a whole new perspective. Have a great day. Shine on. Ray
Thanks so much, Ray. Hope your week starts on a great note. 🙂