Spinning On A Prayer

In our greatest imaginings,

who could dream a world such as this?

Who among us can, even now,

conceive of something as voluptuous

as the gentle commingling of earth to air

that brings an early morning dew?

…Or something as delicate

as a spider’s intricate web,

cloaked in wet droplets

and standing perfectly fragile—

yet intact and strong

as it is caressed by the morning’s first hues?

[The weaver spins her vast universe

within a thousand spectra of color,

casting a rainbow of infinite chance!]

…Or the glimmering of her shiny prisms

that catch notice of two out walking,

each to his own path,

stopping—

eye meets eye,

soul sees heart,

an impression of something

each once knew:

Two from the One emerges,

expressing a panoramic palette

and spilling a harvest of infinite choice...

And still,

a ceaseless and patient dawn rises

from the endless darkness of night.

This intricate and delicate world,

spinning silently on a prayer—

perfectly fragile,

yet intact and strong;

yielding and accepting

accepting and yielding

to that which we offer every moment,

each new day,

by way of our touch,

our prayer,

and our song

_________

Copyright: Ronda LaRue 2001 poem/rev. 2026