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Joy
Is Yours
When the sun is a crimson ball
Being dragged slowly down,
Squashed and dullened,
In a ritual whose birth no man witnessed
And whose death will be our death;
When the waves crash over rocks
Smoothed by wind, by rain, by time:
Their motion, their motives as fathomless
And strange as life itself;
When a gentle mist envelops the corn field,
Shrouding the swaying stalks in a miracle
Of softness & peace,
Daring God or me or anything to disturb the air:
To end the magic that is playing there.
When you have seen, & felt,
And known these things;
When you have created beauty
And sent it forth from you
In a surge of love and power
And had it returned to you
In a million simple ways;
When you can recognise the good in life,
And in people;
And when you can laugh and run,
and play
and hold
and feel
and give
and love,
without question,
Then Joy is Yours.
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