This earth the beloved left
And, leaving,
Left to us.
No other world
But this one:
Willows and the river
And the factory
With its black smokestacks.
No other shore, only this bank
On which the living gather.
No meaning but what we find here.
No purpose but what we make.
That, and the beloved's clear instructions:
Turn me into song; sing me awake.
Gregory Orr
6 comments:
Yes...
O so lovely! gave me goose bumps to read it on this quiet morning.
Peace~
Dawn
Yes...
That's beautiful. And I love the conclusion.
Beauty poem. I especially love the last two lines.~
thank you. it is so nice to find poetry here that i do not know. :)
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