Tuesday, June 11, 2013

Flawless Magician

This beautiful photo was taken by my son, Jon Merk, 
somewhere in the middle of the Rocky Mountains


July 14, 2002

twenty thousand
four hundred and fifty days
upon this earth
have I
gazed up in unceasing wonder
at the
fascinating
Sky,
each morning opening
my eyes upon
a brand new canvas
lit up by the dawn,
ready for
brush strokes
by a Master Artist's hand,
in hourly transformations
bright and clear
across the land.

I look away, look back,
and all has changed.
Unseen, the canvas
has been
re-arranged,
like a flawless magician
whose magic is
too pure to understand,
our eyes drink in
the beauty
and applaud
the sleight of hand.

No two canvasses alike,
each one supremely
without flaw,
an ever-changing masterpiece
created there
by God.

One from the archives, kids, as I am so tired this morning, not a single Thought emerges from the porridge-y cauldron of my brain.

14 comments:

  1. Beautiful lake or pond. I can't remember what's its given human name but it looks similar to somehwere when I tent camped near Estes Park. When I was young and still immortal coming back from overseas, I thought I could conquer anything, any terrain, tame any wild beast and survive any of Nature's wrath. For I had just survived the Demon's nest, in Hell.

    I was almost taught a lesson right away because I was roughing it in the Rocky Mountains, Estes Park, when they had the torrential rains that flooded all level terrain even at the 8 to 9 thousand elevation. Good thing I was a good swimmer and could sleep in plastic trash bags also used as shelter. I learned that immortality has its limits.

    Great experience, though. I think I indirectly prayed to 'our maker' when I solicited the blessings of the majestic mountains, the wondrous pristine waters that had gathered at their base from their snow caps. And, oh, the amazing flora and fauna.

    This, I believe, we shall all witness when our tired eyes shall gather final sleep.

    My good thoughts are with you mi amiga so that you feel better and awaken from your slumber.

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  2. A lovely poem Sherry, I too am in awe as I greet each new day an witness the beauty. amazing what we see when we slow down long enough to really look.

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  3. The more you contemplate, the more is the sense of amazement

    The more you stir the porridge, the tastier it becomes

    :)

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  4. Even when you're tired, you churn out such magnificent poems, Sherry....such a beautiful poetry. And I love the pic...
    The magician up there is truly great!

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  5. So beautiful, Sherry...John's photo and your poem. Phantasmic places like the Rockies have such a profound effect on people. Everyday morning skies, whatever the weather, have that effect on true poets like you.
    Luv, K

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  6. This is a beautiful poem, Sherry.

    I love to look at the sky, whether it be blue with puffy clouds changing and forming, a pink-streaked sky, or a sky with fluffly white snowflakes cascading from the clouds. As you said, no two days (or hours) are ever alike.

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  7. I am so happy to live in the sky as opposed, say, to earth and water. I'm glad you resurrected this poem today.

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  8. A great take, Sherry! It's such a rendering not at all tainted by any tiredness. The accompanying pic must have given that added inspiration. A beautiful poem Ma'am, nothing the matter!

    Hank

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  9. This is beautifully done Sherry! I'm glad you pulled it out of the archives to share it today. Just lovely.

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  10. Ah, the canvas is always beautiful, no matter how it is arranged! And EACH definitely is flawless indeed.

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  11. Hello friend. This was indeed filled with wonder and beauty. I am glad to see something from the past, hoping that it gives you a wee bit of rest. Hugs kiddo!

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  12. There is still much that gives me wonder. I think sometimes it is good to share something written earlier. I hadn't read this one and I am so glad you shared it! Please get some rest!!

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  13. Oh this was def worth reposting. Makes me want to just gaze at the painted sky. Really nice Sherry. Your son's picture goes so well with the poem.

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