Dawning times

I watched you in the dawning times,

when light was still to breathe,

and saw the rest and rise of you,

so small, so new and yet to be,

what days and months and years,

would bring, as time, would sure

dictate, and take us through the

drifts of fate; finally to meet.

The ants would creep in silence,

the birds would sing sublime,

and creatured life would carry us,

through that which had been drawn,

and not yet cast upon the face,

of space, reality, and yet which

charted carefully, the paths for

you and me. How dark the days,

and bright the nights, and harsh

the clouds become, as trailing

through the detritus, you found

your way, my son. No words could

ever trace a map, delineate, reveal,

the way that life would take you,

or just how I might feel. For in

the living, is the task, the mirror

we have brought; reflecting back

the plans we made, before we’re

ever born. This work of soul

demands we hold, to trust, and

love and faith; seeking ever

courage, finding grounded space,

and knowing that each grain of

sand, earth leaf, each drop of rain,

is all as perfect as we are;

it’s just the way we’re made.


About rosross

Editor, writer, poet.
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One Response to Dawning times

  1. julespaige says:

    For sons and daughters, new borns…and for all the stages – when they’ve gone and then returned… to us in our old ages –


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