2016 09 05
While sitting on old wood swing by the lake,
where turtles float like clouds in vast blue sky,
I feel all surging play of human action,
which spirals history in changing floods,
settle into timeless meadow of truth
that living creatures will die in time
and fertilize fields once wasted by war
where new generations sprout from our lust.
Tall tree that leans over shining green lake
cares nothing about genealogy
nor wealthy success in business or arts,
sprouting fruit rather than striving for prize
won in glory of fight for fleeting fame,
so I stand like tree and stare in deep mere
of silver light that reflects back my face
crowned by stars of my song on quest for truth.
While wandering signless road in forlorn woods,
I find in grotto by the roaring sea
mute ghosts of gods fallen from ancient faiths,
Saturn, Zeus, Jove, Apollo, Lucifer,
Yahweh, Jesus, Krishna, Allah, and God,
lamenting as they stare blind in the pool,
where I see my own face beside all theirs,
that their sons and daughters forgot their names.
When I return home, stepping through Time Door,
I see my children laughing as they play
stories of ancestors lost in their dreams,
and reflected in mirror of their eyes
I see new generation of old gods
gazing with new-born joy at ancient world
that spirals round again on wheel of change
to replay changeless roles of love and death.