The laughter of children,
the suddenness of Spring,
fond memory in an old man’s eye,
a well-worn wedding ring.
The dancing of the Northern Lights,
the wind upon the sea,
comfort of an oft’ read book,
a cup of Ceylon tea.
The lights upon a Christmas tree,
the scent of new-mown hay,
remembrance of an absent friend,
the moon-path on the bay.
* * *
These stars I’ve used to mark my way
home, through soul-dark night:
these memories that ensure I shall
always walk in light.
My children will always dwell
in Transition.
They will be occupied with moving
through themselves
into a changing Present.
That emergent child
will ever look back,
to whom they once were,
before embracing,
and being in,
Transition.
Your life is not a barrier,
nor a wall to hide behind:
your life is not a handicap,
nor a burden to be carried...
Let your passage be a gentle glow
that focusses your sight,
removes distraction,
doubt and fear,
and illuminates your night:
step through the shimmering doorway,
and be where you belong
in Transition.
And later
in some other When,
or in some future Now,
all you have been
will shine as light,
a gentle guiding beacon,
in some other person’s night:
the torch that will light them through
Transition.
