As though we were distracted on a train,
Perhaps absorbed in fantasy, terrain
Passing shuttered from the inner eye.
Yet when the train stops, shuddering through each car --
Holiday or birthday, wedding, wake --
Old enough to feel time's wistful ache,
Looking up, we wonder where we are.
In time, we see the need for celebration;
Days unmarked are lost within the flow.
A journey needs its moment in the station,
Yielding motion to restored relation,
So fleeting one is loathe to let it go.
Satisfaction, like the Sea, Is Tidal
Satisfaction, like the sea, is tidal.
Each day, each week, each month it comes and goes.
Along the heart's shore, feeling's never idle,
Singing across sand in tidal flows.
One's happiness is much more like the sun,
Not influenced by currents, winds, or moon,
Self-energized, a power plant of one,
Giving light that others need to bloom.
Remember, in this season of desire,
Every moment you are free to love,
Enveloping your fortune in your fire,
That all life's beauty might within you move.
In each of us there is an unspent yearning,
Needing, wanting, wishing, turning, churning.
Gladness may be seasonal, but grace
Sings its song outside of time and place.
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