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Mom Lived Her Life for Love of Friends and Family
Mom lived her life for love of friends and family,
Neither asking for nor wanting a return.
Her days became a sunlit homily,
With others' joy her joy and main concern.
When we were ill, she also became sick;
When we were cut, she, too, began to bleed.
Of our oil lamp she was the wick,
Drawing her bright flame from our need.
Some say that such behavior's out of date:
That self-fulfillment is the way to grace.
But Mom, without much choice, then chose her fate,
Finding greater truth in an embrace.
She lives on in the sparkle in our eyes:
Laughing, quiet, gentle, loving, wise.
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You Were My Mother and My Friend
You were my mother and my friend,
Which was unusual.
Somehow our characters still blend:
Your wisdom and my will.
I turned, and you were there for me;
I spoke, you understood.
I felt cared for, but also free;
You loved, and I was good.
I'm fortunate that I was born
To someone just like you;
I love you still. Though you are gone,
You live in what I do.
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Every Moment Sings with Fascination
Every moment sings with fascination
As silence sits behind the vivid veil.
There is no rock not rife with revelation,
Nor word that will not ultimately fail.
Likewise, we are masks upon the void,
Uncreated at our empty core,
Mirror of what cannot be destroyed,
The nothing that the thing is destined for.
The being of our being is delight;
The nothing of our nothing, pure perfection.
Just beyond our day is utter night;
Just within our heart, its blank reflection.
The gift of life brings joy well worth the pain;
The gift of death brings us home again.
All poems copyright: Nicholas Gordon - Poemsforfree.com
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