Work in progress

Who would think
           to count the stars
in the firmament
           or to weigh the universe
in the palm of his hand ?
           Such is the mystery of life
that it defies explanation
           is not open to calculus
or to reason and yet
            is the only thing
that makes sense
           all else emptiness
devoid of meaning
           lacking in purpose

When the sun set
           Rilke closed his eyes
and had a dream
           a ladder reaching up
to the heavens
           with shrieking angels 
running up and down
           until day broke
and the scene faded
           in his eyes but not
in his mind : that country
           from which none return
but the question is :
           Why would they ?

For years I have watched
           as the apple blossoms fell
as the fruit ripened
           on the branch and fell too
as swallows flew
           north and south
and notched another year 
           but I have never lost faith
in the poetics of love
           the binding of words
that come together
           and shape our lives
Everything is a work
           in progress
everything driven
           by starlight
all else emptiness
           all else lost forever

John Lyons