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Blessings are precisely everyday. Light lights with happiness the darkest way. It sings with joy and gladness every day, Light that somehow darkness once begat -- It sprang from nothingness, imagine that! There is between the light and dark no rift. Here is all - all equally a gift. Grief, like joy and gladness, is a gift, A part of life one can't remove and weigh By itself, as though there were a rift Rough-hewn between the cliffs of night and day, In between the good and evil that Eternally divide what light begat. Look, though, look at what the light begat! Knowing music, an undivided gift Embracing joy and sorrow, a beauty that Needs both to wring one's heart out on its way. Night melts in glory to and from the day, A modulation rather than a rift. So it is with sun and shadow: No rift Exists between the two that light begat, The night no less a child of light than day, Half of one rich, multi-layered gift, & of the joy with sorrow one must weigh. Earth spins through light and shadow, an image that -- Lending itself to metaphor -- that Is of mere rotation, not of rift. Zen-like, we know there are no parts to weigh, As grief and sorrow are by love begat. Eight days the oil lasted, each a gift Lighting up the heart both night and day. Let ordinary days be just like that, Each equally a gift. There is no rift -- No lesser God begat the everyday. Copyright by Nicholas Gordon. Free for personal or non-commercial use.
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