The year’s life
moves fast along,
in apparent
descendence. . .

Your light
when you show it,
to emit
perfect excellence. . .

Your might
you don’t lose–
though you don’t always know it–
when you don’t permit
all that stuff
you’ve by now so long borne
to commit
a breach
of your soul’s
faultless design
and miraculous elegance–

Just chuck the contrite
and toss the profuse,
take your plain simple love,
go to plant, raise and grow it–

and even you,
in the end,
will have to admit
that your mirror’s clear shine
is just a reflection
of your own long-lost, hidden,
and beautiful essence.

You will see this,
in time,
if not now,
nor in the dim past,
when you just let you be here,
really fully,
in mind-body-soul presence.

your very true self,
with great grace
will then ooze,
so much more brilliant
and refreshingly fragrant
than the rarest exotic
and most healing of balms
forged uncommon wise hands
from the bounty of our good earth’s
most golden and glistening resins.

This entry was posted in Autumn, Poetic Musing (Longer Poems), Poetry, Seasons, Winter and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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