Look, the trees
are turning
their own bodies
into pillars
of light,
are giving off the
rich
fragrance of
cinnamon
and fulfillment,
the long tapers
of cattails
are bursting and
floating away over
the blue shoulders
of the ponds,
and every pond,
no matter what its
name is, is
nameless now.
Every year
everything
I have ever learned
in my lifetime
leads back to this:
the fires
and the black river
of loss
whose other side
is salvation,
whose meaning
none of us will
ever know.
To live in this
world
you must be able
to do three things:
to love what is
mortal;
to hold it
against your bones
knowing
your own life
depends on it;
and, when the time
comes to let it go,
to let it go.
Poetry Chaikhana
| Sacred Poetry from Around the World (poetry-chaikhana.com)
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