Friday, October 30, 2009
This Only ( poem)
This Only
It is this, and this only,
what you hold in your hand
right now,
what you listen to
when you are alone
with yourself
in the night,
or in the light of day.
You may fancy
it is somewhere hence,
at another time,
a place you have
never been,
or have visited
and then forgotten.
But these are not
relevant.
The only thing that is real
is this very moment,
this second of what
you lovingly
call your life,
and which loves you
in return.
Dorothy Walters
October 30, 2009
