to wake
on the canal boat
beside your lover
with your son
in the next room
to sit together
on the deck
in the ethereal glade
where the morning dew
echoes the lack of disturbance
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
to wake
on the canal boat
beside your lover
with your son
in the next room
to sit together
on the deck
in the ethereal glade
where the morning dew
echoes the lack of disturbance
on the cusp of understanding
where one line ends
and another begins
where becoming settled
is the very time for conclusion
yet tomorrow as today
the process
will be separated
exploring caverns in the darkness
always to find a light
as if
even without questions answered
a peaceful resting place
may evolve
as a psychological reconstruction
just at that very moment
as the end bell rings
i have everything in its place
all is settled
the once turbulent waters are still
yet of course
there is more to be worried about
each detail will
turn over or introduce
a further detail
and so life will go on
also dreams and meditations
where the working out
has its own methods
as well as its own motivations
how?
all by coincidence
or mostly
years later
the amazement
rises to the surface
streets
requiring
aeroplane travel
jobs
chancing ones arm
day by day
and love
there in continuum
going up and down
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