Clear away the cobwebs from your eyes
-- Old ways of thinking, doing, wanting, dreaming! Learn
that present truths are future lies, Undone by what is now
well past redeeming. Make of life a vast
experiment Blessed by passion, toil, terror,
pain, Unafraid to scuttle what you meant, Sure only
that no failure is in vain. Do this, and you will have a
chance to be A sailor at the edge of what you see, Yet
yearning for what no one can attain.
ACCIDENTS ARE
RARELY ACCIDENTAL
Accidents are rarely
accidental, Nor can one sparrow fall but all is
changed, Giving rise to ripples rearranged, Evidence,
albeit circumstantial, Leading to one's living less
estranged As one finds sense in something
sentimental.
WHAT MAKES STARS ROMANTIC
What
makes stars romantic? Is it the beauty Of a night sky dark
lit with diamonds? Or the wilderness of blue-white
witnesses Staring wordless back across the abyss? Or
the fascination of forever? (For love Is a fragment of
forever lodged in the heart.)
Is it the need for
two when one seems so small? The desire to touch in the
temple? The vast, lonely Field of life in which love, too,
is a light Amidst darkness? (So many lovers scattered
across The black canopy like burning dust.)
Or
is it the passion at a star's heart? The heat of love
lighting the emptiness, Hurling its ardor across light years
of sorrow To tell us something about what yearns
within?
HAVE WITCHES GONE THE WAY OF
WONDERS
Have witches gone the way of
wonders, Asterisks of yesterday? Life restores what
reason sunders, Lest we lose our mind for play. Once
we knew that what we knew Was like a ship upon a
sea. Evil spirits wandered through Eternity, and
what was true Never tainted what might be.
AS
THOUGH I WERE JUST FLOWING, FLOWING
As though I
were just flowing, flowing, Leaving not a trace
behind, Zest for life not one whit less, However
blank the roving mind; Emptiness the space for being In
the moving moment still, Meaning nothing more than
meaning, Each ellipse elliptical; Reminiscences
like flowers 'Ere the garden was convened, So sweet
the disconnected hours ...
I DIDN'T KNOW HE HAD
HIS WAY
I didn't know he had his way. I
only knew he stopped for tea And found within a fair young
maid Whom later he would marry.
I didn't
know -- perhaps I should. All I knew was what was
said: That at first sight they fell in love For
half a century.
I didn't know that time would
prove A sea in which events would move Like dreams
slow-motion with the tide, Drowned in morning's
mercy.
But nearing death her undead need Broke
open like a sun-kissed seed, And then I knew what choice she
had Endured for love of me.
CHANGES FIND
THEIR AGENT IN OBSESSION
Changes find their agent
in obsession. Old visions do not yield but to a sea. Life
is myth undone by mystery. Underneath the truth lies the
expression. Meaning is the mask of history, Best
worn by those in undisturbed possession. Ultimately, there
is no progression. Sing, then, of change, and savor what
will be!
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