Your Face
written by: Daniel Clarke-Serret
Paul Cezanne,
Has one man ever loved a mountain so?
At dawn and dusk;
In winter and summer;
From East and West.
The Victoire painted from every angle
again
and again
and again.
Or that’s what the blind say.
For this mountain was painted but once.
Each time afresh.
Alive!
With a different mood;
character.
An individual
as unique as a baby from its mother’s womb.
Thus is your face to me.
A wonder of creation.
Indeed of re-creation;
for it renewed each day.
I speak not in metaphor;
for this is reality.
Inner beauty made manifest.
Your face today,
I recognise it not.
For it glows,
resplendent.
The misery of yesterday is banished.
Gone forever.
Replaced by a jewel,
Fashioned in the fires of experience.
I must look carefully,
as tomorrow you will be gone.
And your face forgotten.
For the lady to come
will be as the spring flowers.
Older in days
yet fresher,
sparkling in the April rain
with the promise of eternal youth to come.
Yet there is a day I fear.
A day of glory
that my selfishness runs from.
The day of Sinai!**
When you descend the mountain
with a face so bright
I daren’t look.
The time approaches
when your beauty will light the world.
And the glow I see daily,
the spiritual made physical,
will be seen by all.
On that day,
only ageing will die.
The world will grow young
and beautiful.
** Exodus 34:29: And it came about, when Moses was coming down from Mount Sinai …. that Moses did not know that the skin of his face shone because of his speaking with Him.
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