The stars are in our belly; the Milky Way our umbilicus.
Is it a consolation that the stuff of which we’re made
is star-stuff too?
– That wherever you go you can never fully disappear –
dispersal only: carbon, hydrogen, nitrogen, oxygen.
Tree, rain, coal, glow-worm, horse, gnat, rock.
Wednesday, 9 July 2014
... and we're off...
Song of Shades
When early morning drinks her cup of tea,
her drowsiness disguised in dallying dawn,
and silk trained dusk advances the black night
and shelters secret sources for the fawn,
when chimneys give away where fire burns
and dreamers wake to make their dreams come true,
I write my first love letter to myself
for twilight makes my other sides shine through;
I give up scolding and unfriendly words
at all my weaknesses and lazy ease
and ponder upon little trivial stuff
as why a soothing wind is called a breeze.
Transition’s merit mingles black and white
and transforms dreary darkness into light.
© Beatrice Grundbacher July 2014
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- walking the wild ways - ecopsychology course
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- another q & a poem
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- the white room (another q&a poem)
- 'What stories do the ancient woodlands tell?'
- questions sacred & profane (poem)
- The Dharma of Beenleigh
- 'the meeting' (sheena odle)
- before the world was made
- ... and we're off...
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- poetry: q & a
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