Snow crystals on a trembling leaf,
along the river where we talked at
the tip of Spring; fresh air, moist
lavender sky--the silence following
a blessed rain that came, bringing
us to beauty; a tiny wild flower
under the shadows of a moss-covered
log; as if to say, I am the first smile,
the new beginning of heaven.
The silence of the spheres is the music of a wedding feast. The more we persist in misunderstanding the phenomena of life, the more we analyze them out into strange finalities and complex purposes of our own, the more we involve ourselves in sadness, absurdity and despair. But it does not matter much, because no despair of ours can alter the reality of things, or stain the joy of the cosmic dance which is always there.
Even on the foggiest nights.