I like the line ‘Perhaps the value of a life cannot be measured, and we are surrounded by the tempest of the sea.’

I think there is truth in that – We sense a something within the tempest, a something at the tip of the tongue that if we could just… name it… we might just… but when we do name it, its lost.  There is order in chaos, which seems a contradiction but isn’t.

Your poem reminded me of a poem by Rick Cain

The ancient of Man ponders his curiosity. Questions arise as he wonders of his own significance… how time moves as sands of an hour glass, not to be grasped, but reckoned with by the moment. The focus of a single crystal houses hope, love, and the rainbow multitude of Life’s involvement. We see these things in passing we feel them as now. The Master of these sands is he who loves each crystal. – Rick Cain

• This reply was modified 6 years, 10 months ago by Peter.