Sunday, May 30, 2010

The Point

Sixty-eight revolutions around the Sun
And what does it all mean?
All the hopes and ambitions,
All the plannings and strivings,
The greatest achievements,
And abysmal flops,
The children and grandkids,
The laughs and the tears,
The deepest soul searching
And the frivolous fluff,
All seem without substance
In this moment of Truth.
Yes, there are triumphs
When Hope reigns again
And darkness gives way
To the cleansing of Light.
No shred of the ego,
Casting a shadow,
Can hold back the brilliance
Of that which is real.
The anger, what of it?
The stumbling, who cares?
And what we call Loving,
Do we know what that is?
Letting go of the stories
And weavings of Life,
I bring my awareness
To that which is here.
And so, in this moment,
I sew with intent
To make this stitch even
And strong without knots.
And on it goes on,
Just this stitch,
And this one,
And this stitch, and this stitch,
Is there a point?

Prema Rose

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