Monday, January 8, 2007

Don Iannone

Sifting Sand

Life sifts
like sand
though open outstretched fingers.
No hourglass to contain it.
No beach providing a gestate.

We play with it
like some game
we can win.

Don't bother tying up loose ends...
all ends are loose.
Just let it flow through you
and wash you up on shore.
Celebrate wherever you are...
you're dead if you don't.

It fills us...
only to empty us
spilling us on the floor
abandoning our hope
leaving us bare
rubbed raw
and finally...
just leaving us.

Magic At The Water's Edge

It is the tide that gives birth to the
grains of sand
that become the beach
that welcomes the tide's daily
coming and going.

And all of this is moved by light
with the sin by day and the moon by night.
and so life
as each moment is born
as the timeless tide of love
something to reflect upon.
And we find ourselves
mere grains of sand on the beach
of life created each moment by love.

Encounter's With A Long Winter's Night

I can't help but dream
on this long winter's night
when the fire blazes bright
and time stands perfectly still.

I can't help but drift
like the fresh fallen snow
that blankets the earth
and hushes me fast to sleep.

Somehow the purity and depth
of this early December snow fall
reminds me how simple life can be
when we just allow it to happen.

On this early winter's eve
the silence plumbs the depths
and awakens me while I sleep
stranding me amidst a single moonbeam.

No comments: