The Contemplative

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The Contemplative

In the whisper you find yourself
The contemplative being within,
seemingly fragile, needing peace;
Always striving for space.

In a world where storms roar,
created by nature and mankind
We need to find a temple of calm
where clamour can’t rule.

With no haste, the room is there
bide your time within.
Rising with the morning rays,
The Contemplative smiles.

It was always there, the space,
Let the wonder of light and colour
be the decoration of your special room.

It is within you and me,
within all who want to see,
Access the depth of ourselves
Of nature and life in all form.

© miriam ivarson


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