To Which Image Should we Cling
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Written: April 18, 2024 For Unseeking Seeker Contest
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“We have been here a thousand times before
Memory erased, each time we begin anew
Of hands held tenderly, we’ve lost the score
Each embrace virgin like fresh morning dew
To which image, oh dear soul, should we cling
For each heart was at some point of time dear
As we flow through life with zest, zeal and zing
In all forms we see God’s presence appear”
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A wondrous dance, ambivalent cycle of life,
A story of love, sorrow, and a revival rife.
In the fickle twirl of life, our souls remain,
Forever entwined in a cosmic waltz domain.
I beamed as I grasped a brilliant sunset,
My heart was aquiver by this stupendous set.
Elegantly adorned in cosmic gold and lace,
Admiring the scale of a massive orbital race.
A foggy fallow, floundering and free,
In vacant arenas unspoilt by life decree.
With wonder, I beheld an ariose peak,
A frown barely embraces my cheek.
A majestic margin, an acumen to contemplate,
It felt weighted down, bleak, and desolate.
Unbeknownst to me, I saw a wondrous display,
An unleashed force of virtue, filled with disarray.
My life was once held down by dreary idleness,
Feeling fraught by fate, failure, and feebleness.
But now I realize reality—an obvious epiphany,
A life bestowed, a cherished emerald symphony.
I will no longer feel humiliated in my path,
A sacred gift, a way to grow and assail wrath.
When I was carrying burdens, God abetted me,
And I felt the burden of life's unwavering worry.
Amid strife, our mortal forms wane,
A forgotten past, memories strain.
As trailblazers, we strolled by the wise,
Symbols towered, regal, and never demise.
We arise instead as pure, innocuous souls,
As we set out, our lives unfolded as a whole.
We are akin to kids, filled with awe and delight,
A trek through universe, from dawn to night.
Our life is a transient instant, a scarce time,
Life is a complex web of interconnected rhyme.
Rapture of hiding is gratefully appreciated,
Our faces, hidden in plain sight, deftly deviated.
They exhibit gracious choreography with pride,
A spot where deceit and truth are inextricably tied.
As the oldest, I recall having a hugely rosy zeal,
A myriad of vivid memories in shades of teal.
When I wait for a guide to show my way,
Where angels gracefully glide and sway.
Anyone, a follower, dedicated, and never tire,
They strive to succeed and never retire.
Oh, irony of realizing helplessness, too,
In pits of despair, where hope was utterly few.
In your presence, I encountered solace again,
Altered by your soul into a fresh truth, then.
Behold inner light—a glimpse of divine grace,
Whispers from earlier echo, bridging time and place.
We're bound, from dawn to dusk entwined,
A blade, cut with time tapestry, unwinds.
Copyright © Sotto Poet | Year Posted 2024
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