Poetry for meditation and contemplation 

Tom Splitt

With the Moon and the Stars

In the presence of this ancient, deeply-rooted tree
Still noble in bare, barkless, graying death
Having given shade in Summer
Fragrance in Spring
Abundance in Fall
And shelter in Winter
We would tremble deeply to say ‘I want’
The tree does not say ‘I want’
It is

In the presence of the spider hanging from it
And the birds singing in it
Of the crickets singing in the field
The cows grazing in it
And the flowers that adorn it
Of the mist that floats above them
The wind that blows through them
And the rain that washes over and nourishes them all
We would surely shudder to say ‘I want’
They do not say ‘I want’
They are

In the presence of Mother Nature
In the midst of Her creation
Beneath the moon and the stars and the circling light
Before all the gods and goddesses seen and unseen
All the angels of Heaven and devils of Hell
From the deepest darkest Earth to the furthest dimmest star
How can we say ‘I want’

But if we come to our senses and soften our hearts
We can say, with the trees and the birds
And the spider and the cricket
The rain and the mist and the flowers and the wind,
With the moon and the stars and the One who made them all,
I am