She was ninety and four when I knocked at her door,
We were neighbours but seldom had spoken before.
She welcomed me in with smile so wide,
And gestered me sit at the table inside.
With her porcelain hands she poured the tea,
Then folded them gently and focused on me.
“What’s the meaning of life”, I asked with a sigh,
I waited, impatient for her reply.
She looked around slowly, she stared at the skies,
She gazed at the ocean, then looked in my eyes.
“This is it. It is now. This very minute.
All that it holds and the truth that is in it.
Right now, spring’s blossoms are buzzing with bees,
And leaves are unfurling on maple trees,
The bleat of a lamb, the song of a bird,
The blow of the whale I just now heard.
Right now, a robin is building its nest,
New born babes are suckling at mother’s breast.
In this moment, a mother laments her child’s sorrow,
A father is worried about tomorrow,
A country is threatened, and lives are at stake,
And someone is crying while lying awake.
Right now, this minute has both beauty and pain,
And we know, in an instant it changes again.
The meaning of life is in every minute,
All that it holds, and the truth that is in it.