We gather on this cusp of the seasons
To consider life and death, time and the space between the stars.
This playful dance of winter and spring,
Howling winds of winter one day,
And warming rays of sun the next,
Simply reminds us we are not in charge of the seasons.
They trifle with us and go their own capricious ways.
We measure time in our precise human style,
Unable to imagine how brief is our time on the eternal clock,
How few our days on the cosmic calendar.
When we are at our best, we know time is short, precious,
And to be treasured as much fine gold.
We come to acknowledge our finitude,
To tell ourselves to be humble despite temptations to false pride,
To understand our tiny niche in the great scheme of things,
To celebrate the one and only life granted to us.
We come together as we float through the heavens,
Precariously perched on this whirling orb of earth
Unaware of our tenuous planetary position,
Content simply to be alive to enjoy the grand spectacle of Creation.
We come gladly to celebrate life and death, time and the space between the stars, to drink in the mystery,
To partake of the beauty,
To relish the gift of life so graciously bestowed upon us.
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