Giving Praise

There is an answer which is nothing grandiose:
It is only the sharing of moments
When the inner and the outer coincide,
For there is a simplicity in moments
Which seldom divides:

There was a sunset one Summer's day
When I sat, near exhaustion, on warm grass
By a winding lane having achieved a small goal
For my life; it was good, the weather,
While I cycled two hundred miles under sun:
She was there, waiting with water,
And it did not seem to matter that around us
The world continued with its roles:
There was nothing more, in that moment,
No words, ideals, visions or vicarious desires.

There was, is only the presencing of a past:
All love is such a sharing
When the moment becomes defined
Not by dreams leading us
But by the immediacy of each moment so defined
Since there is wisdom in the conscious understanding
Of all such hidden bliss.

But I am no Artist, my hands cannot lie:
I have only these words to praise
The subtle energy that brings a beauty
When our feelings and our memories
Make our moments coincide.

DW Myatt