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| >> Static Item >> Poetry >> Spiritual >> ID #1464036 |
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Letter
I am present and accounted for in my own moment, in my own mindful moaning meditative melodrama. I am moaning inside with stark pleasure, pushing aside the thought that wants to invade me. I thank you, I say to it, yet thank you no, for no one knows what I feel and thus I am written, lingering here, deep inside this envelope left open, lid tucked in, a letter from God to the world, wanting to wipe away the tears . . . . replace them with a vision, sight unseen, sight unclean, sight all sorrow in the sand that pours out of me, grains of dry pleasure and pain, dry to the world, crumbling in dusty deliverables: generosity, discipline, patience, purposeless purpose, meditation, wisdom— yet dry to the world, dry to the world and something about evaporation, and something about fear and sorrow and hope and joy, something about the sun giving its rays to the world, and what are we all still clutching now? The moon meets its monthly commitments, and must we dread the meditation? The blossom will bloom when its ready, why must we rush through the day? The child learns to walk without thinking, why must there be work and play? The breath comes and goes without thinking, can we empty our minds? The wisdom of love is within us, do we all know we are loved? The goldfinches precede me, do they bring the faerie realm? Or the solstice that just passed us, as we fell into the now? And yes we hum in joyful exertion as we do our work; are we like the hummingbird, finding in flowers the nectar of life? Or is the ugly pigweed where our search begins? Can we venerate the mallow as well as the rose? I keep these lessons alive in this envelope, all these reflections upon our own attentiveness, listening and watching, waiting patiently to be opened, to be unfolded— not by the Reader, but by the love within the Reader. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- This poem is from "Bottle in the River" about a Poet's journey down a river, chasing a bottle tossed by the fingertips of "that I am." ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Written within the parameters of the theory of "Multivalence"
© Copyright 2008 Dan Sturn (UN: dansturn at Writing.Com).
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