Coming To Be

What is the point
of rising every morning
all alone?

What is this strange and eerie tone
that echoes through my being
taunting and then teasing
awakening desire
yet never quite appeasing
this longing older than all time

I wonder through the dying fields
and ask the autumn leaves
how they can bear to fly
even as they die
to life in time
yet they just dance and play
until the winter snow comes down
to smother all the silent sounds
of life

I stare into the sun
and ask the sunbeams, every one
why they continue now to shine
when love, the greatest need
is unfulfilled
They sparkle on the waters of the pond
and dance away
never knowing night within this day
as I
and shadows play
caught now in the corner of my eye
Do they become reality
as teardrops fall?

and I am left alone to wonder why
existence in its glory comes to be
and why it now comes down to me
to know
and where it is I need to go
to find
illusive answers beyond time
and space

I find a moment's grace
a feel of love and then
the sun goes down again
while darkness comes to cradle
all the children of the night and day
in dreams . . .


Copyright© 1999 Michaelette L. Romano
All rights reserved
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