Editor’s note: As a bestselling author and frequent Meridian contributor, Richard Eyre’s prose is familiar to most Meridian readers, but he is less well-known as a poet. We have asked him to share a poem each Monday morning for the remainder of this year as a form of weekly contemplation, along with a preface paragraph about its context and about what motivated him to write it.
Poet’s context for today’s poem:
A dear, life-long friend died this past week and someone even more dear to me has been diagnosed with a terminal illness. In my somber reflection, I have found surprising gifts of joy and beauty along with the sorrow, and perhaps a few insights as well.
finite
don’t bemoan the temporary
the limitation
the end of life
for each of them are mortal gifts
instead cherish and relish
the finite and the fleeting and the fragile
because they are what sets apart this world
from eternity in their sharp definition
their high resolution
their tactile tangibility
we are finite here within the infinite,
and that is the point of mortality
time within eternity
entropy within centropy
measure within the measureless
nothing lasts here
everything is ending.
the beauty is that in our overview eye of faith
In our celestial thought
nothing is taken for granted
not the now or the before or the after
here we have the singular gift
of non-predictability of non-preservability
In the small faux perspective of the ego-mind
going to london thinking you’ll be back again soon
or seeing just another flower
deflates present-ness
and dilutes the joy of the gift
confusing the finite with the infinite
diminishes both.
It whatever it is could always be the last.
your remaining balance
could be a year or a half
or a decade and a half
the things we thought would never stop
will
the repeats may
not
so this thanks-giving we give thanks
for measurable mortality and the motivation
of this once in eternity hunger thirst pain and fear
the finite if we love it
makes it easier to repent
and forgive
and enjoy
and love
