In the past year, as I pay close attention to my surroundings even more than before, nothing seems short of a miracle. Life is truly beautiful. Only Walt Whitman in his poem ‘Miracles’ can express it in the way I want to but I am unable to. Thought I will share this beautiful poem with you all, with a tiny hope in my heart that you too shall take a plunge into a miracle called life.
Miracles by Walt Whitman
Why, who makes much of a miracle?
As to me I know of nothing else but miracles,
Whether I walk the streets of Manhattan,
Or dart my sight over the roofs of houses toward the sky,
Or wade with naked feet along the beach just in the edge of the water,
Or stand under trees in the woods,
Or talk by day with any one I love, or sleep in the bed at night
with any one I love,
Or sit at table at dinner with the rest,
Or look at strangers opposite me riding in the car,
Or watch honey-bees busy around the hive of a summer forenoon,
Or animals feeding in the fields,
Or birds, or the wonderfulness of insects in the air,
Or the wonderfulness of the sundown, or of stars shining so quiet
and bright,
Or the exquisite delicate thin curve of the new moon in spring;
These with the rest, one and all, are to me miracles,
The whole referring, yet each distinct and in its place.
To me every hour of the light and dark is a miracle,
Every cubic inch of space is a miracle,
Every square yard of the surface of the earth is spread with the same,
Every foot of the interior swarms with the same.
To me the sea is a continual miracle,
The fishes that swim–the rocks–the motion of the waves–the
ships with men in them,
What stranger miracles are there?
This festive season let us all immerse ourselves in the joy of giving, sharing and the eternal joy of love. Miracles happen every second…you just have to try and be present in the moment even if it’s just 5 minutes every day.
Happy holidays everyone!
