Beauty Of Sunlight On Water
© Surazeus
2018 04 28
I watch sweet sunlight flicker on the pond
and feel the ache of beauty strike my heart
because civilizations rise and fall
but sunlight always flickers on the pond.
Yet why do I see beauty in how light
of the blazing sun flickers on the water,
waves of photons bouncing off surging atoms
to flash photoreceptors in my eyes?
More than three hundred million years ago
our ancestors first crawled up flowing streams
to lounge on wet shores after eating fruit
and watched sunlight flicker on flowing water.
Beauty of sunlight on water is truth
because every generation to me
gazed with pleasure of satisfying love
at how sweet sunlight flickers on the pond.
Since the beginning of our long dream time,
through hunting and gathering sweet food to eat,
through copulation and raising our children,
we always gaze at sunlight on the pond.
Lounging with lovers in branches of trees,
learning to walk in surging ocean waves,
following cows across the mushroom plains,
we always watch sunlight flicker on water.
I dip my hands in water of the Earth
and dream about each pair of fertile lovers
who copulated to produce my soul,
suspended at the moment when they kissed.
Ever young on the shore of the bright river
each pair of lovers who form my ancestors
embrace forever at spark of conception,
intense passion of love wired in my brain.
I see suspended in the flow of time
countless families gathered with their tribes
in thriving camps, villages, towns, and cities
on shore of every stream around the world.
Around the fire they gather after work
and share bountiful feast while singing hymns
then make love which generates more young children
who share tales while gazing at light on water.
I see them in the tableau of their lives,
the first mother and her guardian husband,
the priest who cooks the animals to eat,
and loving couples playing with their children.
Children play games of chase along the river,
lovers woo each other with vows of trust,
parents teach their children ways of the tribe,
and elders offer advice how to live.
We capture vision of our social lives
in stories about heroes we admire,
in paintings that depict our ritual dramas,
and in gods who personify our values.
Though all those generations are long dead
their genes and memories live in our minds
since beauty shines in tales we love as truth
for all our descendants yet to be born.
So turn off televisions and computers
which connect us to everyone on Earth
for but one hour in turning of the world
and sit with me outside in our backyard.
We watch sweet sunlight flicker on the pond
and feel the ache of beauty strike our hearts
because civilizations rise and fall
but sunlight always flickers on the pond.
© Surazeus
2018 04 28
I watch sweet sunlight flicker on the pond
and feel the ache of beauty strike my heart
because civilizations rise and fall
but sunlight always flickers on the pond.
Yet why do I see beauty in how light
of the blazing sun flickers on the water,
waves of photons bouncing off surging atoms
to flash photoreceptors in my eyes?
More than three hundred million years ago
our ancestors first crawled up flowing streams
to lounge on wet shores after eating fruit
and watched sunlight flicker on flowing water.
Beauty of sunlight on water is truth
because every generation to me
gazed with pleasure of satisfying love
at how sweet sunlight flickers on the pond.
Since the beginning of our long dream time,
through hunting and gathering sweet food to eat,
through copulation and raising our children,
we always gaze at sunlight on the pond.
Lounging with lovers in branches of trees,
learning to walk in surging ocean waves,
following cows across the mushroom plains,
we always watch sunlight flicker on water.
I dip my hands in water of the Earth
and dream about each pair of fertile lovers
who copulated to produce my soul,
suspended at the moment when they kissed.
Ever young on the shore of the bright river
each pair of lovers who form my ancestors
embrace forever at spark of conception,
intense passion of love wired in my brain.
I see suspended in the flow of time
countless families gathered with their tribes
in thriving camps, villages, towns, and cities
on shore of every stream around the world.
Around the fire they gather after work
and share bountiful feast while singing hymns
then make love which generates more young children
who share tales while gazing at light on water.
I see them in the tableau of their lives,
the first mother and her guardian husband,
the priest who cooks the animals to eat,
and loving couples playing with their children.
Children play games of chase along the river,
lovers woo each other with vows of trust,
parents teach their children ways of the tribe,
and elders offer advice how to live.
We capture vision of our social lives
in stories about heroes we admire,
in paintings that depict our ritual dramas,
and in gods who personify our values.
Though all those generations are long dead
their genes and memories live in our minds
since beauty shines in tales we love as truth
for all our descendants yet to be born.
So turn off televisions and computers
which connect us to everyone on Earth
for but one hour in turning of the world
and sit with me outside in our backyard.
We watch sweet sunlight flicker on the pond
and feel the ache of beauty strike our hearts
because civilizations rise and fall
but sunlight always flickers on the pond.
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