To love the beauty of the world:

How such a beast as this could live.

The nightingales and orange groves:

Beneath them all the fear and loss.


To love the mystery and the space:

The measurement of prison walls.

The moorland tops where skylarks rise

Above economies of death.


To love the way we grasp at truth:

Its horns are sharp and black with blood.

The only day we have is this.

The gods have made these memories strong.


The sun will rise beneath the earth.

The daily horrors count our worth.

9 Comments to “Threads”

  1. “The only day we have is this.” I said something close to this to a pastor this morning as she sat down beside me rushing in from the cold…I had come to church because I love to listen to my husband play piano and organ for the gospel choir and they are such a kind community…and then she started the service with this very thought…welcoming everyone into THIS moment:-)

  2. I don’t know what the gods have done to my memories, but you have made me love a minotaur.

  3. You last line is a splash of cold water. You force the reader to attend.

  4. Yes, the only day we have is today. One more day ‘to love.’ I really enjoyed this poem!

  5. Powerful. Yes, the only day we have is today.

  6. The only day we have is this, words so true

  7. Such a timeless feel. I also get a sense of the words having their own wisdom separate from an author, I can’t explain it very well.

  8. Indeed, a very good poem.

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