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