by Steven Craig
Life is what is to be had, and what will be done with it.
To be sure, there is sorrow and loneliness. To be sure,
there is happiness and promise. It is yours, it is mine,
this life we live within bodies of dust and oceans.
Life is what is experienced by our acts, by acts upon us.
To be sure.
But life, it is entirely what we take so for granted,
ignore, and hide away. That, lurking in the dark, is ourselves,
that entity that thinks, feels, dreams, crys, laughs. That item
of quality possessed by both you and me. I know that it is
afraid to peek out from its shelter. Afraid of the pain that
hunts it down mercilessly. For the world is its baptism,
and endurance is its hallmark.
And once, in every ten thousand years, ourselves will experience
that which will be its ultimate reward.
To be sure, it will not pass without the muster of every emotion,
every dream, every desire, everything that we ever had. To be
sure, it will not pass without imprinting upon us its presence
To be sure, it will pass, just as a frosty breath on an
October morning, or a ring in June.
To be sure.
Posted on 07/21/2006
Copyright © 2020 Steven Craig
|Member Comments on this Poem|
|Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 07/22/06 at 04:29 PM|
Nothing like being rebaptised as you've done for me here. Thanks for sharing this and reaffirming my faith Steve.
|Posted by Melissa Arel on 09/23/07 at 02:36 AM|
"within bodies of dust and oceans" oooh, i like that line :) good work.