Easy to miss the moment,
I do it all the time,
Too busy waiting for the next thing,
To appreciate the real thing.
Too busy making plans,
To appreciate the life around,
The colours, the mist, the leaves,
The gifts of the now.
Being still, just for a glimpse of time,
Knowing, rather than hurrying by.
Easy to miss the moment,
To miss the glorious works of creation,
The tiny and the tremendous,
The creator’s signature in a dab of rain,
Or a smudge of colour,
In the sound of the silence,
(Yes, sometimes a difficult melody)
But at times a symphony of calm.
So busy getting ‘things’ done in life,
That I miss the most important thing,
Life.
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