A silversmith’s extraordinary creation
The fine filigree
Of the sand silvered branches
A monochrome cedar tracery
Captured in a brief sunlight
An exquisite artistry now
Hanging lifeless on the rockface,
Almost glowing against the dark granite
.I had always admired that little cedar,
It’s shape almost grotesque,
A twisted, tortured determination
As it clung to the edge of the cliff
It spoke of resilience, defiance,
Impossibly making a life
From a poorly planted seed.
But it was only now,
Maybe two years after it had died
And it’s needles all dropped,
That I saw the beauty beneath.
A beauty that had always been there,
The intricate architecture of its life
But never seen until bared by death.
It had always been there.
It has always been here
Hidden only because I had never looked past the obvious
Condescendingly giving meaning to its precarious state,
Thankful but content with the lesson.
And I wondered how much beauty
Surrounded me in lives unseen, unsought to preconception.
My life unwittingly
Made so much poorer by pride.
Seek and we shall find.