Drudging To Beautiful. . .
They say it is poetic illusion
I take and I say it is poetic license
to which I am entitled. . .
Yet encountered will always
be words that have
little connection to what really is. . .
For instance, how to compare
the daily tasks to some noble effort
requiring a vision based
on the larger picture. . .
It is still drudging and no amount
of greater vision will change the work
from what it really is. . . drudging.
Except a change in vision
from simply looking to seeing.
When looking one skims the surface
and the obvious rises to meet one’s gaze.
When seeing the heart becomes involved
and suddenly another picture emerges.
Life rises to the fore and
coming into view is another picture
with you in it and my world
is now different.
How can it be other than beautiful
and simply lifted from illusion,
from drudging? Can you dismiss
your life as the wondrous gift it is?
I don’t understand the trashing
of life’s most beautiful gift
that changed the mundane