Ilya Shambat Poet Iambic Pentameter

Gratitude

When I come face to face with death

And feel its hands, dried out and bloody,

I count myself the most blessed

For simply this: that I have loved you.


When I see I-am-that-I-am

Sprinkling the starlit mists around you,

I give to him a helping hand

With gratitude that I have loved you.


When the spring flowers are out in bloom

And sun is shining bright above you

I hope it's not much to presume

To thank the light that I have loved you.


As I examine in my head

The splendor with which life endowed you,

I know of nothing else; instead

I do know this: that I have loved you.


And as I move through space and time,

I no more hope to astound you,

I only thank the light divine

Simply for this: that I have loved you.

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