A day at the beach, 1905

What happens to our joy when we die
to our frolicking under the sun
or our contentment of digging our toes in the sand;
what happens to the love of ghosts,
these centuries standing on the shoulders of millennia
standing on the wispy non-shoulders beyond memory
– it’s just one big lake –
and each day we add our bliss, our suffering, our passion
drop by drop
© Meisaan Chan

(Photo credit: Twisted Sifter)

About Meisaan Chan

This entry was posted in Poetry, Spiritual poetry and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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