With the gift of sight I can see the world about me

the sheer magnificence and complexity of all flora and fauna.

I stand in awe of the peaks and the never ending horizon

the deep azure of the ocean and a sky in perpetual motion.

I feel the breeze and watch as the palm trees bow in respect

as birds fly high then to swoop like acrobats.

Fields where crops are sown and in time harvested

as rivers wind their way from natural sources into the distant sea.

Where wild flowers cower in the crevices of a rocky path

as a lizard lies motionless in the midday sun.

The volcano with its snow capped peak magestically

dominates a vast landscape beneath.

Above the sun burns its ferocious gases to give forth life and light

in the dark of night the moon replaces it with a translucent film of milky whiteness.

The galaxies beyond glimmer and glitter to announce their celestial presence.

Creation is what I see, hear, taste and feel

as these cerebral images find their way to my pen.

There with arm in tandem and the sweep of my pen brings all this to life.

How can pen and ink adequately describe this awsome creation?

How can words tell a fraction of what the eye can see? 

I am a poet in wonder.


◄ A Pilgrim's Life

Through the Gate ►


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