clarity is the sublime emptiness
love is the exquisite completeness
between clarity and love
the soul and the spirit
are continuously replenished
as long as
the heart is still beating
Most days I would try to write a poem; it is a practice, as I suppose is meditation, or smiling, or watching the world go by
clarity is the sublime emptiness
love is the exquisite completeness
between clarity and love
the soul and the spirit
are continuously replenished
as long as
the heart is still beating
now time
at once wasted
with half-hearted suggestions
and altogether indifferent responses
no splash of perfume
or swirl of silk scarf
no splash of cologne
or dancing in the dark
amble on
in ample time
of resonance and recovery
along narrow country lanes
with high bramble hedges
where horse and cart
carried the harvest
when forgetful actions
left one all alone
to set out
with hope
to wade
in cool clear water
to follow a path
mostly of my making
it is what I do
it is what I try to do
and if in this life
there is fear
of flight or fight
because my father
went away with another woman
and my mother
was heartbroken
out of her mind
in despair
for who knows how long
to travel
through trouble
to wade
in turbulent waters
to follow
paths of others making
it is what we do
it is what we all do
yet in this life
no fear
of blowing off one’s head
because my father
did not do that before me
and my mother survived
her tablet suicide attempt
to live a fairly good later life
to be
enticed
or entranced
or entrapped
by the prospect of an afterlife
where to live out
your favourite dream
will last forever
without disturbance
or interruption
is it selfish
to say yes i will take this
if all that it costs
is a daily prayer
and the living of a peaceful life
i will admit
to looking forwards
to the passing over
to looking back
on the wonderful life
of course I do wonder
if i am not a believer
should i be gifted
what others
have served their all lives for