Nuances Poem by Celine Socrates

There it is, walking through the fine line
of being and non-being,
straddling the space between what is said and unsaid.
This world depends too much on
feelings: too much heart put into
too many things, too much hope
in the sight of golden sunrises striking through
the foliage of trees; birds flying through mountains,
continents, worlds—
beating the air and gravity in a way
neither of us could.

Is this the part where you say
Wait

But there it is, beckoning from the landscape
outside the window, waiting to be
confronted then
forgotten, the way we forget
the beauty of rainbows after
a momentary glance—or
mountains, after we have
climbed and conquered them.

Is this the part where you say
Stay

Today, of all days, here it is:
no morning brighter than this, the world awash
in the first of morning lights, birds singing
alleluias from their nests, and always,
when we are faced with crises
like this,
we wonder how it is that the universe
can afford such luxuries as
sunrises.