Life Goes On

Did you think that it was angels then...?
Filling the skies with awesome light,
rippling in multi-colored hues of pure delight;
etched across the blue in hues
of unending hints and tints and tinctures;
moving like a movie without end -
and life goes on.

Magically, we condescend ourselves
in concentrated power of all form,
to walk a while upon a path
that always leads to somewhere else;
as vistas of each space and place
are impressed within our soul;
and so we grow, without expansion
passing and surpassing time
and space within our wanderings -
and life goes on.

Mystically, we see it all again
as past and future meet
(just there, around each bend),
in the wake of passing ferries
on that river running without end.
Sun glistening in scintillating majesty,
as sparkling sprites dance moisture
to a state of titillating urgency -
and life goes on.

We turn, as they did then and will again
to see the shadows fading in and out,
aligned and tuned to every mood
that light and dark can bring;
seeing more than ever
we had known could be beheld,
for spirit dwells in every particle -
and life goes on.

How incessantly we come to know
the whole in such small increments!
Ever evolving while staying the same;
untamed, instinctual and free,
at every point, just where we need to be:
touched, unseen, from any angle
as if an errant angel chose
to encircle us within its wings -
and life goes on.

And oh! The grace and glory streams
right through the breadth and width
as height begins to take a dive within;
for divinity must know it all this well -
the burst and then the quelling,
the brash and the indwelling sacristy,
that reaches out again to live itself -
and life goes on.

Forever found in each and every
particle of length in chains of time;
forming and reforming everlastingly
behind, ahead, beyond, within;
each particle that spins itself alive,
dancing in the wake of pure intake -
and life goes on.

Shall we have another round
of joint applause . . . ?
Or shall we pause for just a moment
treasuring the precious nature of it all,
watching as we stream ourselves
to pure and utter individuality of being.
As we grow our wings and learn again
to fly right through those skies
of all eternity . . .

? Michaelette ?

Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . .