Daily devotion

This thin spun life
         that hangs by a thread
that sleeps beneath
         the embroidered sky
that wakes to the cooing
         of the dove and the chirp
of countless sparrows

Each day is counted
         in the steps we take
fame is no plant
         that grows on mortal soil
ambition and the sun set
          Here we go hand in hand
here love lolls and lingers
         in the moment
as the vagrant dust
         settles all around

Life is rigged
         a story told
of a ragged rose with petals
         that in time decline
forgotten as they flutter
         in the felon wind
its pointlessness
         its saving grace

These are but words
         contrivances
from the breath of dust
         that pant against the hour
poor weanlings
         that must make
their stubborn way
         until they are heard
no more

John Lyons