Water cupped in my two hands
Bears the rich taste of the land.
Paths that loved me brought me here:
Eden must be near.
Maybe when I’ve breathed my last,
When what I know of earth has passed,
I will wander, light and free,
Underneath this canopy.
I drink. The water’s fresh and clean,
And I’m forgetting where I’ve been.
Overhead, a pigeon sings
Of love and gentle things.
If I should dive, would I need air?
Perhaps I would thrive swimming there,
Gathering shells and greeting trout.
I’d never come out.
Pigeon pleads for me to stay—
“Really, it’s a lovely day!”
Eden is not far, I know;
There’s nowhere left to go.
Stars above flash in their envy;
The Stream below’s crying out loud.
Even the Lady Moon turns away,
Concealing her face in a shroud.
A body of crimson Trees shiver.
Cricket-song rises, protest!
An ancient Wood full of enchantment
Knows no spell to give it rest.
Are these the days of Beginning–
Or is it the start of the End?
We could not comprehend the green,
But let us now pretend.
Why would a Firefly flicker,
Or a Vining-plant tangle in plight?
Were they not made in perfection?
Wouldn’t their burden be light?
What has a Flower to pine for?
What makes Stars fall from above?
Perhaps the answer is simple:
In their beauty, they want Love.