What is the meaning of life? That was all—a simple question; one that tended to close in on one in years. The great revelation had never come. The great revelation perhaps never did come. Instead, there were little daily miracles, illuminations, matches struck unexpectedly in the dark.
Arriving daffodils will make no sound,
will blow no trumpets -- only the earthworm
close to its root, burrowing underground,
will hear the upsurge, feel the green stems yearn.
Beauty returns to Earth, devoid of noise,
devoid of clamor. Now it lifts its head
epitome of stillness and of poise
and in unbroken silence all is said.