Is life so frail

That by my thought I make it what it is to be....

The world is all the same....

Nature does not change itself to satisfy my whim-

Stars alter not their courses just to meet my eye-

The time of dawn seeks not to match my rising,

Nor does the fall of dusk accomodate my sleep-

Seasons never fail to follow each in turn.

There is no evolutionary change in my brief life.

When wrinkl'd brow will close my eyes at last

So is the world as when my birthing eyes did blink.-

Yet, though each day is acted on a stage alike,

Each day is shaped by signposts in my mind.

This day as my companion son and I

climbed the hill

That led to his departure from my side-

To take his place for classroom work

A bird that perched on topmost branch of tree

Called to us in song of greeting

Resonating to my feet in miming dance.

Its melody was heaven-born

To re-assure that all was well.

It was the thought to shape my day.

This day I sat at meat

With cherish'd partner of my life.

No food upon my plate did feed my mind nor stir my soul.

A gentle touch of her hand laid on mine-

A teasing glance from soulful eyes

Became the warmth that framed my day.

Is life so frail

That by my thought I shape the day...

For, in the silence of my room

With only sound of ticking clock-

An uninvited thought broke through

The bolted door of my mind

To block the path of settled voyage

So well map'd out by thoughts before,

And set my course on restless seas.

Is life so frail that by a thought I shape a day...

If so....

I beg for other thoughts to put me back on course.

by J. Vance Eastridge, 2000