The Little Secret Poem by W H Benjamin

A little bird's wings
Flapping, hammering, like
The tiny hands of time

A little love
Alot of kindness
Preserves the beauty of
Life without which we are blind.

We cannot see the ties that bind
The hearts that beat, meet and break
The love that calls that
keeps us all around

To know the heart of one is the rush
To try and fathom all the oceans
By looking into a murky fish bowl.
To count a million and one stars in one second.
For though the numbers
Fly, rush by, whispers from your lips.
You can never tell what fate holds
For you, for her, for him.
Until, last, you blink.

You dimly perceive,
The quickly fading light of your existence,
A shooting star,
Hurtling through darkening skies,
Just passing your Horizon,
Past, night.

You barely know the reason for your journey
But keep along the same trajectory,
Pulled willingly by gravity.

And when you realise,
If you do,
Then too late you've crashed and landed.
At last, they say you will find yourself,
In the Orchard or some timeless Grove
With Bluebells, Roses
Wafting, swaying, balmy under Summer's light

Lying in a landscape, with plants,
Grass, animals, light, sky, an Ocean.
Seemingly painted
A portrait all around
Sweet colours escaped,
Freshly squeezed from Monet's brush.

There you wait to meet your maker.
But no one living, you've ever met,
Will ever know
The things you've left
And how you watch this Garden grow
You become part of it.
You that loved and were loved so.
Now you are, now you know,
Now you've met the Secret Keeper.