It occurs to me
As I marvel,
Again,
At the enormity of talent
And of perseverance,
That our mortality is framed,
Like the paintings on the walls
In flesh and bone
Paper and ink
Wood and clay
And is indelible
In it's passage
We are here again
Some of us
Those of us
Blessed with another
Bountiful, beautiful day
Embraced by the images, the imaginations
Of those who are no longer with us
Is it homage we
pay
Or reverence
Or gratitude
For the gifts
Of all of these endowments
Left to us by our
Mothers, daughters, sisters,
Husbands, brothers, sons,
Whom we humbly attempt to honor here?
I say
It is in grateful memory
That we celebrate them
And ourselves
As they would have us do
Tonight, for them
Maybe from them,
After an early autumn rain
A rainbow
Smiled
An enormous
Spectrumed smile
Sanctioning us
Imploring us
To laugh,
And love
And dance
In colorful abandon.
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