When the Sun reached out his yellow hands
Parting thick clouds on the rise,
In that same way I’ve gently done
To her thick and supple thighs,
I felt a stirring of my soul,
A certain dew beneath my eyes,
And when the clouds closed ’round again
The sun was lost among their sighs.
Tag Archives: meditation
Meditation
My blood was boiling, my gut was in knots,
Hands were shaking, and my heart beat fast.
I lit many candles and sat on the floor
With my legs crossed and my soul bent.
I said 50 Ave Marias to the Buddha statue
In the lowest notes my throat could scratch,
And I saw the candle he was holding,
Then the little glass stones
That had fallen from his robe.
His expression said he cared not at all,
So I said to no one in particular
“How fitting.”
I took my prayer ring, from a religion
I never believed in at all,
And by rote repeated the words as I stared
At the face of someone who, in life
Defeated the sorts of evils that plagued me
That very moment.
After 10, his eyes seemed to have opened
If only slightly, to stare at the flame in his hands.
My heart was slowing.
At 20, my blood had cooled and my hands were still.
At 30 his eyes understood me, and moved
Left to right imperceptibly, warmed by the light
That burned at his chest.
At 40 he felt empathy, and looked back down
As if to say “I am sorry that you are hurting,”
And at 50 my voice gave out.
I took up the wooden stick and the copper bowl
And turned the stick around its rim
Until it sang,
And he looked up, not quite at me, but sternly,
As if to say “Forgive.”
I am no longer angry, though I am still
Filled with a grave despair.
A Pleasant Habit
It is accomplished in long sweeps,
Left to right with perfect form-
Right to left- deliberately,
Visiting each textured, well worn tile
More than once and maybe circling
Back around to caress again
Some puzzling corner.
In this honest and gentle effort
This trivial quarter hour
Of slow motion circles,
Pulling, repelling,
Waving, extending,
Is the Tai Chi of a man
Who feels himself at peace
With work that will never be complete.
Findings
I found the words I wasn’t looking for-
I couldn’t find
My walkin’ away shoes-
And despite the diligent effort
Of breathing in, and out,
I have not found god.
The Best is What You Are Today
Youth is only wasted on the young
Because they’ve nothing to which they can compare
This gift we treasure when we’ve sprung
And rue we’ve done but half of what we dare.
It was the careful rehearsal of blunders
Like a band of many rubber violins
Doomed from conception, errors and wonders
Reflecting in mirrors, in our various skins.
Age is wasted on those who conceal
Each stroke of the brush and colour selection
Clinging to a youth which was never real
As a child to a stolen, forbidden confection.
Today is the best of the days I’ve had yet
For I am neither young nor old, I am all-
At once and nothing; how sweetly met
Is the sunrise upon the earthly sprawl!
~Dedicated to those who have lost the battle against mental illness~
prince nothing 