Digging through
what, to most eyes,
just looks like trash. . .
A shard, a clue,
an arrowhead
deft-chipped
from black volcanic glass.
Unearth what was,
detect the trace
of bird’s eye flash,
with twitch
of tiny sparrow’s head. . .
That fleeting moment,
heart and soul
of all that takes
a stand
for all of life,
no qualifying comment,
nor question there
that need be asked,
a force that dares
to touch the darkness,
and feel how fluid
moves toward light,
not just then,
but also now,
here, everywhere,
every second, every year,
that ever in
our whole wide world
shall come to pass.
Advertisements
I like this, Elaine. Makes me think of the one web of all life in this eternal now. And Blake’s “universe in a grain of sand”.
Thank you so much, Betty. Very flattering to hear I could evoke Blake for you
in any way.