Wondering Aloud

Perhaps we should take the "judge not" portion more seriously.

In the wind-driven night at winter’s frost grasping,
Time, like pavement paralleled snow, passes
Rushing to end the recent years of
Madness, miracle and mercy.

In the future time through then present tinted
Spyglasses some will gaze back at hopes lost or
Victories gained and wonder at the resiliency
Of our genus while pausing at the stupidity of our genius.

We have judged those past with standards
Of our time, our frame, our moment in the continuum.
So will our turn come when our bones’ dust sifts
Through the hourglass and falls lightly,
Dust on dust.

Gazing through cloud-break on this wind driven night
Where time and motion move seamlessly with
Grey moon back-lit cirrus and
View punctuated by bursts of shotgun pellet stinging sleet,
One wonders what standards will be applied
In the brightness of light that precedes the dust.

We cannot know, but we can assume
And in the holy vastness of starward view
We can take a moment,
Reflect,
And be renewed.

I’ve had this one in the hopper for several years. It was in a notebook I was cleaning out the other day and it fell out on my desk. Thought I might take another whack at it and see how it would turn out. Hope you enjoy!