The old man knew he would
be the last of his kind.
He had traced his German and Irish
heritage back several centuries.
He even knew of their life’s
trials, misfortunes, and pandemics.
He had walked in their battlefield footsteps,
and stood beneath their Presbyterian altar.
His father did not know.
His mother did not know, nor his brother.
No bloodline of his was left,
nor would be left, who would care,
to share faithfully, and eternally pass
onto his discoveries of the very
nature of their being, their very soul.
Such was his fate,
the last berry of the fruited tree.
Doomed to be conflicted
with the eye of an artist,
the mind of a scientist,
and the heart of a poet.
Offering charitable wisdom,
but yet not welcomed by those
blinded by petty and selfish distractions.
Now, in his autumn years,
he only watched, and captured the
beauty of life surrounding him.
Firmly knowing, that man’s greed,
would end all that beauty,
not in millions of years,
but scores of years.
As he continued to watch,
displayed behind him, on the wall,
was that captured beauty:
sunrises, waterfalls, oceanic waves,
mountains, skies, heavens, woodland,
wildlife, and canine companions.
Ah, the canine companions.
Spanning decades,
he would love his German breeds,
big and small,
and they would love him back.
Now, three remained.
Someday, he would be joining the
other eight into the infinite,
expanding cosmos.
Kindred spirits,
intertwined in play,
as though it never ended to begin with.
He would then await for the
most precious love of his life.
The wife who was always there for him.
Her glowing inner and outer beauty omnipresent,
filling him with joy forever, and ever.
In that afterlife,
even if only like a dream,
let our eternal consciousness
dance to the joy of life.
With our Mothers, Fathers,
Brothers, Sisters,
Husbands, Wives, and Children,
And with our beloved and devoted dogs,
who departed us with so much sorrow in our heart.
_________________________________________________________________________________
D W Orr
Environmentalist, Weimaraner/Dachshund Companion, Photographer, and Poet-Provocateur
Harford County, Maryland,
Here, where it all began, 250 years ago, in the USA
August 31, 2019
Morning Waves
The Ebb and Flow of Life, and the Light Moody Autumn Redux
The Autumn of Our Years
The Ancient and Vast Cosmos
The Infinite
Provocateur ‘24
The Poet-Provocateur
”The Man who sees well beyond the day-to-day Bullshit”
~ D. W. Orr
“To see clearly is poetry, prophecy and religion, all in one”
~ John Ruskin
January
February
March
April
May
June
(1)
July (1)
(3)
August (3)
(2)
September (2)
(3)
October (3)
(1)
November (1)
(1)
December (1)
|
(1)
January (1)
(1)
February (1)
March
(2)
April (2)
May
(2)
June (2)
July
August
(1)
September (1)
(1)
October (1)
November
December
|
January
February
March
April
May
June
July
(2)
August (2)
September
October
November
(1)
December (1)
|
(1)
January (1)
(1)
February (1)
March
(1)
April (1)
(1)
May (1)
June
(1)
July (1)
August
(2)
September (2)
October
November
December
|
January
February
March
April
(1)
May (1)
June
July
August
(1)
September (1)
October
November
December
|
January
February
March
April
(1)
May (1)
June
July
August
September
(1)
October (1)
November
December
|
(1)
January (1)
February
March
April
(1)
May (1)
June
July
(1)
August (1)
September
October
(1)
November (1)
December
|
January
(1)
February (1)
March
April
(1)
May (1)
June
July
(1)
August (1)
September
October
(1)
November (1)
December
|