There is time tomorrow
for everything,
but for poetry
there is only
now,
beckoning
in the way a bubble
builds,
is blown into the wind,
bursts.
There is time for everything
tomorrow,
but the poem
is a piece of driftwood,
sea-glass,
a heart shaped stone,
that small miracle
in the sand
we walk past,
miss
if not looking.
Though the poem
is a bubble blown,
it’s more than
the elements of which
its comprised.
Connected to its source,
it is a fountain pen
that won’t run dry;
or paint
in the hands of an artist
who lets the canvas
choose the colours,
follows suit.
How the poet
captures the flow
in the moment lived,
so deft and quick,
adept at bottling and sealing,
before the bubble
on the brink,
expands,
takes off.
How there is time
tomorrow
for everything.
Everything else,
but this.
Ana Lisa de Jong
Living Tree Poetry
May 2022

Oh, yes! Thank you for this. Perfect. with love, Amrita
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Thank you, I’m sure you resonate. I love the idea of writing poetry as a dawn spiritual practice xx
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I can write late at night, or at first light. The world must be quiet…. But at first light, my life is in better rhythm with my wonderful husband’s patterns! So I fell in love with dawn. 💜
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Ah yes, I relate. I can write in all situations too, buts it’s that quiet time, that very special thin time alone, in which the Word speaks most clearly.
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“the thin time alone” Oh, Lisa, I love that!
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Yes, and you do it so well.
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And you’re so kind, I bow to you my friend!
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