I blinked
as an Oak leaf separated from its stem
with thunderous silence
felt in the remotest corner
of Spirit's creation.
While it fell...
the Earth turned but a little,
countless hearts beat—
once or a few times,
one season flowed into another,
water made its journey
from sacred river, lake or ocean
to air and sky
then back again,
life cycled—
entering,
inhabiting,
leaving its merited vessel,
lands above and below the sea
rose and fell,
as did myriad civilizations
only a few of which are remembered
in the mind of Humankind;
And is the life of a flower
any more brief or less glorious
than the span of a universe
when seen from a vista of cosmogenic proportions?
All, while septillion stars
suckle at the breast of Her infinite mercy.
Till at last,
with a great diaphragmatic heave
the universe breathes
one final time
and is no more,
but awaits rebirth
on yet another day of creation.
And when the leaf landed
I blinked once more,
as did the Universe—
I went about my business
and She about Hers.
birthing clouds
out of nowhere.
And off they run
just as kids do,
light and free
for a while,
only to meet up in storm,
pouring out the tears
of today's pain
that water
tomorrow's flowers.
Where did the two butterflies come from
that were chasing each other,
mimicking each other's movements?
Were they born together?
Did they find each other?
A scientist would say
“Well, there are so many per square mile
on this part of the river canyon.”
But I have seen no others today,
and that makes it a miracle,
these two,
butterflying together.
The little lizard on the rock
could breathe his last
at any moment now,
with so much death around him—
birds, snakes, cats.
I hope he is happy
to watch the butterflies
flit crazily past him
and not worry about the length
or brevity of his life.
