Do without doing,
make something from nothing;
revise on and conquer.
leave nothing untended;
let symmetry guide you
off-balance at times.
Do, or do not do,
remake while unmaking;
there is no old recipe
for what is baking.
Music and dancing,
bring drums for the solstice;
plug in the instruments,
join a new party.
Practice at something:
being and nothingness.
Wake in the morning;
the coffee is on.
for Alice Guffey Miller
26 JUN 2017
Soon the sound that breaks the day
comes to chase our sleep away;
and the darkest dreams night grew
blink from black into lighter blue.
The world, barely recognized
through half-open, hazy eyes,
wakes slow with us, its warm glow
buried below the pillows.
Arise again and don your shield,
the ancient weapons you wield
against the dumb drones that come
reeking of rum and humdrum.
Be conscious now! You must choose.
Do not linger, or you lose
this moment’s span; if you can
still stand, battle is at hand.
Until the sound that stills the day
comes quietly to end the fray,
fight on fearless, king or pawn,
at every dawn, until you’re gone.
23 FEB 2017
Each day I wake, my head crammed full of dreams
that reach into my conscious life unasked,
defining how I perceive each new task
by tearing at reality’s worn seams.
From dawn to dusk they push and pull my mind
in strange directions, seeking some release;
new tangents form in patterns without cease
and with their ebb and flow, seek to design
the life that I too often see as dull,
its colors faded out to browns and grays,
mere repetitions of some useless rite.
Of moments too soon gone, my life is full;
and on these fleeting chimeras, my days
oft lose their edges and fade into light.
02 JUN 2004
The clock will stop that human hands must wind;
its mechanized contrivances will fail,
and in those precious seconds between time
the boundary between the worlds is frail.
On one side, secret lands where shadows pale;
and on the other, bright and vibrant dreams
where words escape like mist, and leave no trail.
In neither place a thing is what it seems.
The universe is woven from both streams;
it winds its way through both darkness and light.
The truth swims in its currents as it gleams,
where foolish souls will try to grasp it tight.
To value just the gem you hold, is tragic;
To see them all and let them be is magic.
03 DEC 2003
for LJ user novapsyche