Oh my, thank you. We may have: Oh my, thank you. We may have stumbled upon a secret key here, home back on to a point in our life's resumé and use as a diving board and refuelling station the best of the best. That is the thread that lengthens and intertwines, hope being the needle/shuttle that moves in the tapestry making journey of life.
Too moving for words. The: Too moving for words. The intersection of the divine and the human at many times and at many occasions could be found on or around the cutting table. Perhaps it is that point were mortality reaches the point of its finite limit that the infinite becomes quite clear. I love the incredulous yet verve-filled expletive of Buzz Lightyear; "to infinity and Beyond!" The glory of course redounds to the Alpha and Omega!
You have put that so: You have put that so accurately and so poignantly that my words fail in the face of this magnificent poem. I did not have a tree-house, but my father and grandfather built for me (then a pre-schooler) a small structure, shaped like a storage shed but with a window on each of two of its four sides. I kept my collection of the Aurora company's plastic models of the Universal Monsters in there, along with the latest copy of Eerie Magazine, and the antique roll-top desk, childsize, that had been my father's when he was my age, and which he had given me. And the imaginary futures my friends and I discussed, in there, were spectacular; but I was too immature to realize what your poem has stated to elegantly---that nothing we imagined would be any better than that. Decades later, when my last parent (mother) passed, and I sold the property, I compelled the buyer to transport, at his expense, that small building, and it now sits, on concrete cinder blocks as it did before, in my backyard.
I think Christendom has: I think Christendom has failed to take seriously the Apostle Saint Paul's assertions, in the Philippian letter, that we are a colony of Heaven; and must, therefore, bring the culture of our Mother Country, Heaven, to bear upon the country---the Earth---which we colonize. With that Mother Culture, we are able to see the miracles that God has embedded in this earth, and that these, as foretastes of the Heavenly, are meant to be not only cherished, but closely observed and appreciated: the change of seasons, dawn and dusk, the flowering of a garden and its autumn decline in preparation for next spring. The great (and now deceased) British actor, Peter Cushing, himself a devout Christian, suggested that the recurrence and regularity of the seasons (due, of course, to the 23 degree angle of tilt in the planetary axis) had been meant, by God, to be a metaphor of Heaven's eternity.
As an officially old person,: As an officially old person, I can say, with some credibility, that the poem's ninth and tenth lines (these are located in the second stanza) are entirely---profoundly!---accurate. My health is failing, and quite a bit of my body does not work correctly, if at all. But in the realm of heart and mind---which I call the soul---I am still dwelling in the best year of my life, 1976, when I turned eighteen, enjoyed the presence of my first Beloved, and also had fallen in love with Poetry. The age in which my body finds itself is not the age in which my soul delights.
When we were quite younger a: When we were quite younger a cousin of mine from W.Va. used to have a favorite phrase for every political discussion: "just nuke 'em." Years later, a group of friends from OH had the same sentiment. We live in the 21st century these days but sometimes it hard to tell if the brutishness of our forebears have really been refined or redefined. Being "prima" is somehow now combined with being "donna." A moral quandary nonetheless. Stirring and sombre in the same breath.
That is quite the dilemma: That is quite the dilemma there; and being of "two minds" is an apt description. Having just returned from a commu outreach at the earthquake slash tsunami devastated coast of Iwate, one of the local social workers who was born there asked us if we ever felt guilt at having survived while the others of their/our cohort didn't? We shared how in early 2011 we two had our devastating inland tsunami and widespread flooding in SE Queensland just a few months of theirs. Hard hitting stuff when such calamitous events strikes large segments of civilization. A very sobering poem George.
A humbling response. Reminds: A humbling response. Reminds me of that older song now, "take it easy on yourself." I could have as well, but such is life. We have our today to live to the fullest.
Thank you so much for reading: Thank you so much for reading and leaving more than a comment; it is radiant and heart-stirring Truth. It's always a great honor when an awe-inspiring poet stops by.
It is a horrific feeling when: It is a horrific feeling when one's friends pass away. I just recently learned of some deaths at my old college, and it shook me up pretty bad. And it is the persistent facts of this problem that only Faith can put into place.