Waxing poetic on thoughts, theory & the times
Sometimes the opportunities are nowhere to be seen,
Sometimes they are all placed in our lap
At once,
In each case
The next move seems harrowing,
Which move do I make?
What is right?
Which would lead me to destruction?
In any case,
The important move is the next move,
Whatever you should choose,
Never stop
Moving.
Love,
Do you think the burning stars look on in pity
Of what became of their stardust brethren,
Who aim bombs at each other over disputed words?
Who sacrifice innocence over their idolatry?
Or do you think they see the quieter explosions
Of love,
Like ours?
That make living any existence worth while?
I hope they do,
I hope they see the love and dream of when they too
Are only dust particles in the universe reconstituted into life,
Conjuring that which is love.
Cultural heroes pass in untimely death,
And suddenly how close mortality seems to us all,
A stark reminder that mortality is always a heartbeat away,
And despite this knowledge
Only with loss do we bend to knees and pray,
Not for miraculous everlasting life,
But for enough time while it’s ours,
To do all that is needed to be done,
To make right our actions
To let loved ones know
In word and deed that they are loved
and of their value to our personal existence,
And this all takes time,
Takes heartbeats,
-Thump-
There goes another beat,
Now is always the time,
To do what you would,
If you had just one last
Heartbeat.
To the light I go,
Drawn like a sapling to it,
The wonder is known.
To whom shall I ask the big questions?
The meaning of life questions?
The “why do we die?” questions?
Who might hold the answers;
The trees?
The sky?
The ocean breeze?
What will shepard me to the next plane?
When will my time come?
For I only know that it must come,
Reliable like the summer rain.
Turned a card and found a way,
An image intricately illuminated,
Illuminating in its prescription,
Turned a card and found this way
Turned a card and found a new way,
assessments of past, present, future,
Staring deeply into the picture
Interpretations abound,
“Know thyself” comes to mind,
As I examine the symbols, cups, wands, swords,
Find your way in living,
Cards are meditative mediums,
Bridging with the spiritual that surrounds,
A deck shuffles and organizes the unexamined life,
To investigate within,
To investigate without,
To perceive the seemingly invisible,
The untenable,
That which lights our way without our knowing,
Here a glimpse behind the curtain,
Thins the veil,
A gift of the moment through a prism viewed.
She of Letters 