Equilibrium
Nocturne: Black and Gold - The Fire Wheel
James Abbott McNeill Whistler (American, 1834-1903)
With every wave that hits shore,
In motion and shadow the sand absorbs;
Inky darkness writes history in patience,
While present a spark flickers -
The flames of time never withers.
Anguish drown away by heartless whispers
Of gentle passage in mountains and rivers.
No favors given in seconds allotted;
One fair thing is what death rotted.
Rich, poor, or happy, depressed -
The meaning of life is what one makes it.
How minutes spent lies in the eyes of the beholder,
Where chaos and sanity meet and ponder.
This earthly plane only otherworldly
In the mind of those willing to see.