- Books, Literature, and Writing
Meditations on an Icy Night
The night is cold and quiet
There is only the sound of sleet
It assaults the glass of my window
Its sound is--hypnotic
I close my eyes
Allowing the sound to be my escort
To take me down a path of icy dreams
The world has stopped
There are no cars
No engines humming
No headlights shining luminescent beams
Into my bedroom window
What does it take to make the world stop?
Is it the ice?
These marvelous white sculptures
Hanging from cables and power lines
Long smooth cones of crystal
Emerging from the edges of my roof
The art of nature!
An exhibition created for humanity to see
One attempt to slow the race to a pause
To make us reflect on the time we waste
Scurrying to and fro
Like ants marching to their hills
Carrying the weight of the world on our backs
Into the hill we march and out again
A constant cycle of work
I pause to think
Is time spent in contemplation truly wasted time?
Or is it the gift of a moment?
A time to connect with that which is greater
To stare into the cold quiet dark
And untie the straps that bind our soles.