Spirituality

They slide away, the days of yore,
From wood to ash, from ash to flame
Like pages turning in the frame
Of an old book, and then no more.
Look: in this question of our hour,
Or in the stencils of our fate or
Space-time sowings, the ‘creator,’
In gods that gave a voice to power
I’ve seen the people draw a spark
To seek their sun so they can speak it.
I too have sought mine in the mark
Of light – as if that told its secret!
Our spirit races in the dark
And there alone the mind can seek it.