When something is lost
It’s important to see
What remains
This is a story about discovery
The bowl is more than empty
It's a chasm
And yet the swirling colors of memory
Are perfumed with a poet's music
No, let me explain
With scalpel in hand
The surgeon cut away
The pained and frightened queen
The young prince was left
To rearrange the pieces
In the tower of contemplation
He called the princess
out of her dark closet
To put on her gown and
Teach him how to climb trees
Together they are conjurers
Of magic swans and bees
They travel out to far off galaxies
And heal myriad spirits
Walk in dark places
Where wondrous beings perform
No one could have told me this before
That hidden behind every tragedy
Is a gift.
2 comments:
With every word you spin magic. If that comes from the chasm of loss - I thank it. Then again, life is loss so that there's room for the new to surprise us. Otherwise, we'd all be stuffed up and frozen. A hug is winging its way to you, love!
Oh, thank you. Here's to not being stuffed up and frozen! Life is loss, indeed, and also gift. Hope I can keep to the center pole in between.
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