M Teresa Clayton
I listen to the waves rushing ashore; the ebb and flow…
the rhythmic beating of lives measured cadence
keeping pace with what must come and what must go -
alluvial grounds preparing for a blessed nascence.
I watch as the sun arrives; lifting its light from the east…
we know nothing of our treasured reliance.
Reaping her nourishment, each day a new feast -
yet, taken for granted 'neath this unspoken alliance.
The wind blowing in from the north; a harsh and stinging cold…
the solstice has lost its once grand appearance.
Long past its due, the season has now grown old
bidding the equinox to come without interference.
Strongest are the many blessings now spoken from its mouth…
hymns sung aloft now rain down its affluence.
Spring's warm soft breezes arrive from the south;
gives praise to the passing season at its confluence.
The seasons have never forgotten their appointed course…
each pushes past all unforeseen resistance.
We endure the change without any remorse,
knowing it still remains true to its flawless consistence.
The new moon prepares to wax full and then begins to wane…
pulls the tides high in glorious resplendence.
She assures that she will return once again,
It is the symmetry of her splendor in transcendence.
Opposites push and pull to gain their own definition…
yet, held fast within this divine ordinance.
Redundancy - the bane of man's supposition.
All grace lies within predestined accordance.
The courses, cyclic in nature, rearrange; recomposed…
remains the same when bartering allowance.
Abundance is equality; juxtaposed
On the head of a pin, a delicate balance.
written and read at the Dreams and Divinities Art show in San Cristobal Mexico in 2014.
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