In
this poem I try to express a philosophical intuition about the nature
of reality. This is not something subject to logical proof or, for
that matter, disproof. Admittedly putting it in the imaginative form
of a poem is to appeal, in part, to the feelings. Yet are the
inklings of the heart to be entirely disregarded. It is up to us to
decide for ourselves I guess.
ETERNAL
DAWN
Some see time as
sunset:
sombre fading to the
night,
burning losing of
the light
spread on far
horizons...
but every day that's
ever passed
was but precursor of
the dawn;
and never was a day
the last
for dawn is ever the
reborn;
as every shadow's
cast by light,
and every blindness
supposes sight,
and every silence
supposes sound,
and every wall, a
further ground,
and every limit, the
limitless.
For every ending
brings beginning:
the fresh, new
radiance arising and
enlightening the
vastness.
The lotus on the
stillness
opens to the rays
renewed-
eternal dawn,
the ever-born.
The truest tale is
resurrection,
the greatest pattern
seems
to have no form...
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