Philosophical

the sun-play beams in the forest
turning through as the earth moves
a canopy shaped by elder branches
and it glows softly in the dusty haze

when it strikes us, we put it away
there is anything but acceptance
by contrary confusion correlates
to how man best spends his time

life is in a moment looking back
i realize this so late, strange it is
stoicism being the practice of love
calls for the closest to reverberate

but it is like a moth in spring which
inhales the early morning meadow
incarnate with the yellow-white
flowers that shine in the shadows

for it is harmony that plays there
where all of the instruments blend
to shape the embrace of music in
the silver dome of cascading light