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Blessèd

Blessèd be the better days
and the bitter ones that outline that blessing.
 
In an entirely non-Biblical fashion,
blessèd be the bees that buzz and fuss,
frantically flitting from flower to flower,
or hovering, landing and lifting off,
carrying on tiny feet the fate and life of the world.
 
              Blessèd be the land and the sea,
              the city and the bush,
              the sky and the ground.
 
Blessèd be the falling down
and the rising up,
and the times of neither.
 
Blessèd be the moments of solitude,
                 eternal as they are,
and the company of friends.
Blessèd be the arms of a lover,
the compassion of the gentle,
and the hatred of those who despise compassion.
 
                  Blessèd be the silence,
                  and blessèd be the noise.
                  Blessèd be the yapping dog,
                  the cuddling cat,
                  the singing bird.
                  Blessèd be the breathing trees.
 
Blessèd be the bitter lessons
that bring us the sweetness of wisdom.
 
                     Blessèd be a sense of irony,
                      and its multi-coloured mother,
                      a robust sense of humour.
 
Blessèd be the laughter that arises from the boots,
and the tears that well up from the soul.
 
Blessèd be those who have ears that hear
                        and eyes that see,
and blessèd be those who have ears and eyes
but are deaf and blind all the same.
 
                   Blessèd be the bitter days
                    and the better ones.
 
 
Blessèd be those who know their blessings.

Autres oeuvres par Peter Cartwright...



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