Foundations. Firm or faulty?

When you walk and see something extraordinary, a jarring happens.

Forced out of your world, you enter another.

Be it good, bad or indifferent.

You no longer think of your reality, you dream in another.

I had seen this cathedral twice already, but for some reason I couldn’t help myself - my feet found themselves back at it's foot. The grandeur, the workmanship was beyond comprehension. It exuded a seductive pull.

I was awestruck.

Year after year of painstaking labour stood before me. Brick after brick, stone after stone, the labour, the sacrifice, the splendour.

It turns out the pinnacle window and roof had caved in twice in construction! The foundation faulty, the foot stone not right.

TWICE!

What a metaphor for life. I stood below the stunning design, I saw the light refracting in all directions and all I could think was,

The foundations weren't right and everything collapsed. All the sweat, the labour, the materials - wasted!

On the flip-side, when the foundations were firm, magnificence stood, generation after generation, century after century.

Choices. It came down to wisdom and choice.

I couldn't help but feel the faulty nature of my own 'foundations' and 'choices.'

Chatting to a friend, she gave me a challenge,

"Go, find somewhere that catches your eye and write. Be it a silly poem, be it a creative piece, write. But, it can't be of you! After you have, soul search to your hearts contentment!"

Well, I took the challenge in my stride... Writing poetry is as easy as buttering toast for me. It makes me smile, it helps me process, it's my thing...

I went to explore. I wanted to be inspired by something that made me smile... I wanted to write something that might do that for someone else too...

I didn't have to look very far.

On my little walk a little friend popped up to say, "Hello!"

I'd just found the poem's hero!

The little hare popped his head

above wiry strands of grass.

Only two thumping feet

supported his hairy arse.

His little head was spotted

by a log and a tree.

I couldn’t help but smile

by the beautiful simplicity

of the sight, of the moment.

We looked eye to eye…

Together we let a moment

silently pass us by.

I didn’t move an inch -

other than to snap the sight.

Very soon thereafter

he hopped off with such delight.

Continuing on my walk

I spotted a flower of dreams.

Standing tall and proud

she was unaffected by the breeze.

I knew it would take

but one gust from me

to scatter those dreams into the world

finally wild and free.

But spellbound and captivated,

I took a closer glance.

Discarding thoughts of blowing

the seeds into a wild, free dance.

The woven web of perfection

was such a beautiful sight!

I couldn’t ruin that picture.

It brought too much delight!

It was the only bloom standing

tall in a sea of green.

It was stately and so very proud -

like a royal Queen.

I wouldn't steal the sight

for someone else to glean.

Instead on I walked with a lightness of step.

It was my turn to dream.

Nearly home, a lightness within

there was a bush blooming with life.

Not just full of colour and buds,

but buzzing bees were in sight.

These bumblebees were something new,

so fluffy and so very sweet.

They made me smile as I continued

down the suburban street.

I wish that I could capture

the foolish childhood delight

I found myself basking in

as the day turned into night.

Thinking of all that I had seen,

and all that I had done,

reminded me that the pendulum

had well and truly swung.