Poem - Lyrid

The sublime thought, to slip Gravity’s snare

And fall through Your creation

I’m tethered here instead

A mere spectator to the power

Minutes spent in waiting

For that tiny flash of light

A second passes and it burns out

An apt metaphor in regards to mortality

How many centuries spent

Travelling untold distance

What stories could cold rock tell

Since its birth at the Creation?

What scars marked your surface?

Collisions with celestial bodies

So much time spent in motion

To become sparkling light on my eye

Yet You knew this pilgrim’s destination

As surely as You know my own

I rest safe in Your hand for the journey

Until final transformation to soaring light

Yet where this cold light has passed in a wink

The light of Your faithful will endure forever.

Randall Madden

April 24, 2014