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.

(Michael Anderson)