My heart sings with the coming of spring. Like, the soil, as the wetness is warmed and awakened, I feel alive as if for the first time. It is enough to drive me towards… poetry.
All things contain both silver and shadow.
All things rise then fall, then rise again.
All things have their arc.
You and me are no different – but this is no sadness.
This is no failing.
Rather this is the glory of the life we live.
We have spring and we have summer, then we have autumn and the darkness of winter.
But in this moment, we have that most precious unfolding
Below is one of my poem in which I tried to say much the same thing…
Every subsequent spring
All things die
You know this, but know it again
Not so as to live in deaths dark valley
Or to let fear fence you from the joy of living
Rather know it so death does not fool you
So it does not rule you
Know it because, like last year’s leaves
(Or the spirit that stirs in oak trees)
Nothing is ever wasted, nothing rejected
Instead, all of us will come to participate
In every subsequent spring
From now into ever after