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This is what was bequeathed us:
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 ~
A peaceful scene which fits the poem so well. My favourite lines: "No meaning but what we find here. No purpose but what we make."
ReplyDeleteThank you. I enjoy hunting through my images to find something that complements a poem. Needless to say my favourite line is "Turn me into song; sing me awake." It reminds of the concept of an Aboriginal songline.
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