The Heart's Pilgrimage in the Realm of Light

The sun it shines with hope, joy, warmth, and rebirth.

Its rays do radiate and allow us to bask in love,

not love of one another, or the other, and the other,

but love from the divine, the creator and the ruler.

~

With every sunrise, the sun kisses the meadow awake.

The earth is bathed in the golden light of a new day.

Did you see the first blush of dawn in the morn,

as she spread her rosy fingers and smiled down?

~

Did you feel renewed as the golden hues spilled like honey

over the hills, in the distance, to the streams and brooks,

dancing and shimmering its iridescence on the watery surface,

reflecting the light of truth, of clarity, of salvation?

~

Before Old Jack and Jill Frost clutch the land,

in the grasp of their icy and bony fingers,

Autumn's fiery crown burned on the hills and valleys.

Nature's neverending cycle reminds us of our own.

~

As sure as spring follows winter, rejoicing follows heartache.

Time, ours and the world's, like the seasons, is never still.

Listen, please, to the whispering wind carrying my thoughts,

as the babbling brook sang its elegies and ballads to my soul.

~

While the leaves murmured the great secrets of the earth,

lose yourself, with me, in nature's warm and enriching embrace.

Let each step upon the path before us be a prayer.

Listen to the response; let nature be the teacher, the healer.

~

Walking in nature, nature flowing in me, has always been a journey

of self-discovery. As time stands still, we feel at one with

it all — the universe, time, memorial. The ground rumbles silently.

And when raindrops fall, like teardrops upon my poignant soul,

~

I found my truth, the truth about contentment, beneath heaven's gates,

under the canopy of the might and splendour of creation itself,

as the sunsets and brings with it heartache, but also hope and chance,

for a new day, a new beginning, a new…

*

Thanks for reading!

Author's Notes: If I wrote this in the 1820s, I'd be a rich man, possibly. Now... not so sure. Blame John Cox.

The challenge was laid down.

So, above is the best poem ever. Top Story should be winging its way to me soon.