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About This Poem
Indian Summer Part II
2.
Strange how the arrow of time
Bears us along upon it
Always moving towards some future
Yet,
Obedient to Zeno,
Each moment is the only world we can experience directly.
The sigh of your breath
The touch of your hand
The thought of you enduring through the day;
From these I weave the tapestry that is my world.
A kiss, a touch, a memory
These are the bricks with which we build a life,
And tell ourselves it will go on and will go on
Though in the end it is a flicker in the dark,
The dark that is the final face of God.
And still in the end it will be enough,
Because it is better to have lived and loved you
Then never to have lived at all;
Then never to have told the wind my secrets
Then never to have dreamed Perfection,
Then never to embrace my higher Self
Then never to have laughed with God
At His flawless Insanity.
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