When, in winter, you momentarily see,
And feel,
And when, in summer, you momentarily feel
At these moments
Your finest soul
Momentarily shines
Despite the tawdry demands,
And uncertainties
Of the present

At these moments,
You slip out of time,
Falling back,
And forth,
Within a realm
Of qualities,
Into the land of the senses

When a river of light
Burns along
The curtain’s hem
And tiny lavender
Blossoms redeem
A concrete gutter,
There and then
No thing needs
Striving for
Nor to be sought after,
Gathered or guarded,
Nothing is lost or lamented

At these moments
And the world
Are replete

Paul O’Kane, June 2016