there are wheels so much bigger than
this cog and turning daily grind and
somnambulant reel – this moon swell
ocean gyre that counts the seasons as breaths –
this march of constellations across the sky
we live we die we live we die
yet we panic and push against our immortality
pretending only the old, frail or
foreign are mortal, when this life truly is
a moment of wonder or horror in a side tent
at a fair and as the curtain draws back
there it is, the sum total of human endeavour
illuminated in this life of where we are at
in all its wondrous horror and
breathtaking beauty
too much too much
to take it all in and as the curtain starts to fall
we reach out try to catch it
hold it open a moment longer
with a wait i am not done yet
i think i almost understand
what we have undone,
but there is no waiting
no holding back
and fall it must
and in the breath close darkness that follows
our hand finds a face a voice a hand we love
and pull them out the tent
to a gape of stars wheeling above
and the lights and sound
of the universe that is
and in a voice that has been you
since before and before
you whisper to the sky and
the love still warm in your hand
let’s do it again.
For Brendan at Earthweal’s weekly challenge: BIG WHEELS TURNING
https://earthweal.com/2021/08/23/earthweal-weekly-challenge-big-wheels-turning/
fresh poetry 
Breathtaking!!!
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This is so bittersweetly true Lindi, of horror and beauty blent: Yet the end is a birth and the miracle of deep understanding (gleaned, I suppose, from farming) — let’s do it all again. Amen, I’ll have what you’re seeing. … I’ve been thinking about how the big cycles geological time have been invisible to humanity until now, we’re seeing deep time events in our moment and its terrifying, that sublime — yet the heart of it is exactly here. How could we see or love otherwise?
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Thanks Brendan. It is terrifying – and yet here we are living through it – moment by moment.
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‘yet we panic and push against our immortality
pretending only the old, frail or
foreign are mortal’
– I think about this a lot. I visited Shakespeare’s former home once, and in the dining room was a picture of death sitting down to dinner with the other diners. I suppose it was impossible for death to be taboo back then when it could happen to anyone, at any time. But it still can. Better accept it and maybe value our lives the more because of it!
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Amazing that you have been there. Thanks for the telling.
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You have taken the idea of big wheels turning out to the far reaches of consciousness. This is a poem that rolls around my mind expanding my thoughts as I read it.
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Thanks Suzanne.
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