Light of Love

A poem about death:

Lose track of the wind

On the mirror surfaced lake

Christening the sky

With clear intent

Where is the coffin

But sky and earth

The heavens, the ornaments

And yet in the kitchen,

Where life is rebirthed

There gathered the women

Pottery deep into breakfast

Reassuring one another

The calm center of the maelstrom

Change the only constant

There is light in the darkness;

The light in chaos

So is life with death

Born when it was time to be born

Die when it’s time to die

The movement, the process,

Where the repose of peace with time is apparent

It follows the order of things

Neither joy nor sorrow can take hold

Yet in Spring, herald of rebirth,

It feels like Winter

Like the depths of the ocean

Have suddenly become thick air

Upon this fleeting dream-world

Dawn is breaking

The trees bedeck themselves

The willow boughs in comprehension

The direction of love is not lost

But the deeper treasure of sweetened time

Will be its own reward