Sorrow and Mirth
Spiral Dance ~ Philip Brent Harris
Watching the gray, the white, a patch of blue.
Sky rapidly filling with rain-pregnant clouds,
Calls to mind a thousand things, old and new,
Fantastic creatures to mountains and shrouds.
When the clouds begin to darken till rain falls,
Looks like pulling down a black, funereal veil.
From inside me, the voice of every story calls,
My connection to the source, an endless tale.
Not only tales but also tails, whiskers, paws.
Creatures tame and feral, who live here too.
Songs of birds, green of grass give me pause.
Myriad life may disappear from me and you.
Our short view of life, becomes shorter still,
Fancy we carry the whole world in our hand.
We forget, ignore, that ours not the only will.
If we don’t know by now, never understand.
Rain quickens seeds in their womb of earth.
It will shower, if we are here or we are gone.
The world rotates round its sorrow, its mirth.
I fear it’s far too late for anything to be done.
Peace is Purpose, Nonviolence is Strength, Diversity is Unity, Empathy is Empowerment
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