The Miracle

There is a majestic quality-
In everyone for all to see.
Some keep it hidden, some never realize-
The magnificence they hold in others' eyes.

Ah, yes, life itself is the gift.
Though the memory, itself, Time doth sift.
And some might think the reverence gone-
As those we love one by one pass on.

But the intricacies Fate doth weave-
In commemoration for all who grieve.
Are the blessings given to rebirth-
From souls no-longer of this earth.

At first notice I came undone,
My father staring at me through my son.
But, now, in joy I ascertain-
Through him, my father lives again.

I look to heavens' resounding grace-
Renewed appreciation of life and my place.
Knowing as each newborn child opens their eyes-
The miracle continues, no one really dies.

by Michael Anderson