Within the clouds
Within the mountains
Within the universe,
All things are living and alive.
The universe, a friend.
There is no death,
No shrouds
No hearse.
Only the pale shadows
That flit, mothlike
Between the standing centuries
Of drifting snow.
Only the lost call
Of the raven
Who will find his mate again nearby
In the green sheltering cottonwood tree
Only the young giants, wandering
On a dim, mistaken world
While overhead
Calling in the mist,
The Great Winged Beings
Are there
Still – soaring upward,
Friends of the night,
The sun,
And the dragons of old
Yet the fires of kindness
Burn in the night of gleaming intent,
In the eyes of Heaven
In the soul of the mountains
In the heart of the eternal world.
In the night,
In the day
That is to be,
Always here,
Always near,
While the penguins dive
Into the white-tipped waves of the Antarctic sea –
Jubilant
And ever-free.
© Copyright, Sharon St Joan, 2021
If you like this poem, you might also like this website, Forest Voices of India https://forestvoicesofindia.com