The Crossing


I dreamt I came at heaven's dock,
no key I had would fit the lock,
birds flew and whistled all about,
leaves brown with wisdom o'erlaid my doubt.

Yet I crossed onto the silver plain
and drank the rays of loving rain,
I sat beneath the old banyan tree
that never failed to comfort me.

And flowers, out of pools, I thought,
became the kith and kin I sought.
A zephyr led me far and wide
and wispered that she was my bride!

Above the shining yellow leas
I saw them change to deep blue seas
and then to evening's bold red sky
in the twinkling of an eye.

There life is not the picture made
but the cluttered palette frayed,
not the master work we frame
but the purest wish unstrained.

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