heartspring

[desmond dillon]

  

 in the depths of cold hard winter  

unforgiving frozen ground 

yields no growth or expectation 

and hopelessness abounds 

we may see ourselves as flesh and bone 

and living life that's all alone 

but here is more to it than loneliness 

and thinking thoughts of you and us 

for nothing here is as it seems 

as this is all a land of dreams 

where we cannot think our way to heaven 

but we can think ourselves in hell 

we must leave the path of thought behind 

then seek instead to feel where all is well.

      

so Now the time comes ripe 

with no idea left to form 

for boredom is the midwife 

of the joy that can be born.

we are infinity caught in a finite ring 

a bubble in time that seeks to bring 

an outlet to the light within.

   

.

[desmond dillon]

sometimes in England we can wait a long time for the bus..  then eventually two come along together. It can be that way with poems.