Sunday, January 3, 2010

At the End of the Year, by John O'Donohue


Piotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky - Waltz of the Flowers, The Nutcracker Suite Op. 71a

The particular mind of the ocean
Filling the coastline's longing
With such brief harvest
Of elegant, vanishing waves
Is like the mind of time
Opening us shapes of days.

As this year draws to its end,
We give thanks for the gifts it brought
And how they became inlaid within
Where neither time nor tide can touch them.

The days when the veil lifted
And the soul could see delight;
When a quiver caressed the heart
In the sheer exuberance of being here.

Surprises that came awake
In forgotten corners of old fields
Where expectation seemed to have quenched.

The slow, brooding times
When all was awkward
And the wave in the mind
Pierced every sore with salt.

The darkened days that stopped
The confidence of the dawn.

Days when beloved faces shone brighter
With light from beyond themselves;
And from the granite of some secret sorrow
A stream of buried tears loosened.

We bless this year for all we learned,
For all we loved and lost
And for the quiet way it brought us
Nearer to our invisible destination.

5 comments:

ffflaneur said...

those are beautiful lines:
"The slow, brooding times
When all was awkward
And the wave in the mind
Pierced every sore with salt."

Manuela said...

hello ffflaneur, i am very late in greeting you, sorry. they are beautiful lines, and i remember that day i came across them in two different places, and then i came here and saw your comment, as well. as things happen sometimes.
be well.

kanishk said...

Lovely. Thank you.

Work From Home

Manuela said...

thank you for your visit, kanishk!

Zepharia Andres said...

It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves. See the link below for more info.

#destiny
www.ufgop.org