Tag Archives: wonder

Our Sum: clogyrnach

What a world this one’s become:
to have begun both deaf and dumb,
then learn of singing,
the art of bringing
love winging;
see it come!

Who needs make-believe, I wonder,
when there’s rain, lightning and thunder
that illuminates,
feeds our dreams and fates,
tears our states
asunder.

What a world both past and now:
the evidence that we, somehow,
will someday arrive,
and may yet survive;
we’re a live,
precious bough.

Who would destroy the great balance
that gave to us this fighting chance
to mature and grow,
to be sure and know?
Such death slows
all life’s dance.

What a world this one’s become:
we trade love songs for battle drums,
spend our lives dying,
no longer trying;
denying
our parts’ sum.

10 FEB 2017

Share This:

The Wild Wonder: chant

I am the soft and silent spring
that well-oiled, whispers while it winds;
I am the scent of somber smoke
that wisps its wild way through the wood;
I am the gentle grasp of green
that in the spring succors the seed;
I am the tacit, tender touch
that germinates the garden grains.

I am the mist that mires the marsh,
the cloud that cloaks the clearing’s clover,
the wistful wind that wets the wheat
with drops of dew at new day’s dawning.

What good a world not filled with wonder?
What need this wandering without ways?
What use a wild that wants no wander?

6 FEB 2017

Share This:

No Surprise This Morning: an alba or aubade

That morning comes again is no surprise;
the laws of physics have not been withheld,
nor has the motion of the planets, if
those laws are merely whims, been held at bay.
No vengeful demons or vain deities
have paused the world in darkness for their play.

No, the edge of space where I sit has again
been turned and tilted to its burning star;
while elsewhere on the globe, lights flicker out
and someone borrows my fear of the night
(which is not trepidation of mere dark,
but rather, the unknown outside the cave
[or box, as we prefer to call it now,
since we are civilized a thousand-fold]
that waits for us, like some divine pop quiz
on that damned chapter we forgot to read).

So, morning comes again; and every time,
despite all evidence to prove it will,
and though our own experience and sense
would tend to ease our worry on this tack,
yet we stand dumb still, starstruck at the sight,
in shock that our blind faith
caused it to be.

04 AUG 2006

Share This: