Sunday, January 13, 2008


Strange, this game,
Riding the blue-green spinning orb
Around a giant globe of fire;
No problem staying aboard,
But the meaning, that's another matter!

Much has happened here,
Long before my turn;
Preserved bits and pieces
Of the curious story remain for reflection,
Only adding to the mystery.

My place in it all
Seems so amusing, small,
At times devoid of meaning,
Purpose darts about and flees, leading me
To the here and now of things.

Strange, familiar aloneness
Covers the days, not the only choice,
For all seek meaning like that
Uncovered in another's
Voice and pain and hope.

We ride on,
Spinning around the fire,
On the way toward deeper mystery,
Counting days and learning names,
Holding on to love.

1 comment:

Karen said...

This is beautiful. Who wrote this?