There are no special days -
there is only the spinning of the earth
towards the sun and away again,
warming its face before the fire
then turning again to the cold black space.
The year has no end or beginning.
There is only the floating of the earth,
tilting through the seasons like a yacht at sea.
circling a course laid down by gravity.
Every day is sacred -
every moment of this journey,
every spin and tilt and curve,
every forward flow through space.
And I will celebrate them all.
there is only the spinning of the earth
towards the sun and away again,
warming its face before the fire
then turning again to the cold black space.
The year has no end or beginning.
There is only the floating of the earth,
tilting through the seasons like a yacht at sea.
circling a course laid down by gravity.
Every day is sacred -
every moment of this journey,
every spin and tilt and curve,
every forward flow through space.
And I will celebrate them all.
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