Still, Silent

[courtly]

The winter's quiet dwells where
The Spirit of earth -
Earth so grey in autumn's waning sun -
Watches patiently, unmoving.

The lakes are frozen,
The air is still and cold.
The Spirit of earth is without passion:
It watches unflinching the heartless
Frost, the wintry quiet.

For we are all watched
By eyes without feeling,
Eyes which see both strife and pleasure.
The Spirit fills the earth with meaning,
That mortals freely partake of.
Name this Spirit what you will,
It is not who you say it is -
That so far apart must render men mystical.

[Philip16]

What a pleasure this is to read. The tone and message combine to appeal
to readers to become more aware of the great mystery within which we
find ouselves.
Philip16

[anthonycoll]

Written in the spirit of Shakespeare! Indeed, Nature is what it is but man is free to choose; for even in the ghetto there are people of impeccable virtues!!! Life is truly amazing! Thanks for sharing your very deep piece of poetry. Much enjoyed. anthony

[Christopher11]

We can feel isolated in the dead of winter, and if we’re strong enough, we can spring back into action. With all things cold to the senses, and an ice-bath is the only option, we had better learn to like licking. Piecing on earth gets will from men, but deep cuts work well, bleeding every now and every then. The Spirit is in all of us, but not all of us are working hard enough to go and get it.

Very much enjoyed!
David