The Meadowsweet

The daytime hours are balanced, equal to the night.
Dawn and dusk form bridges, between darkness and the light.
Two realms exist in parity, two sides exactly, just the same.
Past and future blended,  all present, in life’s moment game.

Half way between the solstices, not spring but autumn view.
Where leaves begin to turn, from green to gold on cue.
Rusted, oldie, mouldiness, decay comes to the nose.
The sweetness of the meadow though, lifts mood of summer doze.

A pause upon the turning wheel, a choice of happy sad.
To enter mood of ecstasy, or agony, good or bad.
For now we can just journey, opt for kingdom to be tread.
Where one can dance with living, the past life or the dead.

Stood upon the fulcrum, we’re centred, in control.
Aware of our responsibility, of ego and of soul. 
Now it’s all the territory, that is known and understood.
Where we can enter decadence, or purity if we should.

Consequence laid bare, of actions, or non commit.
Bygone mews and ensuing dreams, all held, with me they sit.
To contemplate the either or, of memory and of lust.
To step towards our destiny, come home to that of trust. 

Back upon the link we share, between zone and space and grid.
We know how much to run amok, or keep upon our lid.
It’s connection one and all, that we have come to crave.
Attention's all that's needed, from now onward to the grave.

By Simon Blackler
Copyright © Simon Blackler 2020 

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