Touch
I touch,
yet ripples move
beyond my grasp.
They are,
yet none
precede the flow.
Ere long
the sheen's
restored to glass.
Yet still
I rest
and think I know.
All changes:
Others come and go
and touch
and grow —
together on
we flow
and touch each other.
Until the end
when One
who can and loves,
will touch
to make a sea of glass.
- Joseph F. Buchanan, August 2008
[ up to this point unpublished ]
This poem is incredible, Dad. So deep! You should share it with the Ensign!
ReplyDeleteI’m not sure about that, but I have thought of finding a nice picture of a smooth stream of water with a small ripple showing- to illustrate it.
ReplyDeleteI was just at a reservoir last night watching the ripples effected by my sweet children throwing rock after rock. So beautiful and calming.
ReplyDeleteI wonder if our lives interacting with others would appear so calming and harmonious despite the upsetting counter ripples that feel so painful up close?