This poem was inspired by an article I read on The Marginalian by Maria Popova about G.K. Chesterton, called ‘The Dandelion and the Meaning of Life.’
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Dandelion Clock
By David Milligan Croft
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I searched for the meaning of life
In philosophers’ books.
I looked for a reason for being
In great religious texts.
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But I could not find anything
To assuage the frustration
As to the point
Of my own existence.
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The sun dimmed
On the page I was writing,
As the Earth slowly rotated me away,
Into the shadows.
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And there it was, shimmering
In the fading light of dusk.
A dandelion clock, swaying
Gently in a summer zephyr.
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Its seed pods lifting off
Into the atmosphere,
Like the universe itself
Exploding into life.
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The wind would carry it
To its destination –
It did not need to worry what it should be
Or where it might be going.
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I searched for the meaning of life,
And found it in a dandelion clock –
Either, it is all important,
Or none of it is.
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I was looking for heaven,
And realised I am already here,
For the briefest, most glorious
Moments in time.
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And the point of existence,
Is to have existed at all.
David Milligan-Croft
Thereisnocavalry 
This is like one of Wordswoth’s “Spots of Time” – small, memorable events or moments usually outdoors and in touch with nature. Like little enduring epiphanies with the capacity for “lifting us up when we are fallen.”
Wow, thank you, Josie. To be mentioned in the same breath as Wordsworth is praise indeed! I’m honoured and humbled!.
“Golden lads and girls all must as chimney sweepers turn to dust.” I think that’s right. Shakespeare using two contemporary allusions to dandelions: “golden lads” and “chimney sweepers.”
Beautiful imagery! Thank you.
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