Gratitude

When I come face to face with death
And feel its hands, dried out and bloody,
I count myself the most blessed
For simply this: that I have loved you.

When I see I-am-that-I-am
Sprinkling the starlit mists around you,
I give to him a helping hand
With gratitude that I have loved you.

When the spring flowers are out in bloom
And sun is shining bright above you
I hope it's not much to presume
To thank the light that I have loved you.

As I examine in my head
The splendor with which life endowed you,
I know of nothing else; instead
I do know this: that I have loved you.

And as I move through space and time,
I no more hope to astound you,
I only thank the light divine
Simply for this: that I have loved you.

Ilya Shambat 
https://sites.google.com/view/ilyashambatpoetry