awareness – radical druid

Sing a Morning Song

Published on August 11, 2025

On the east edge of now, the sun rises
against a somber dawn of fading grays.
In that new light of morning, awaken,
and shake the sleep of apathy away.

What time exists is in this moment, here.
It cannot be extended or exchanged
in some transaction seeming more auspicious
or played to some advantage yet unseen.

Let loose your eyes and ears! Enjoy this instant!
There is no opportunity to come.
Let memory defend itself this evening –
the morning’s hay is made in daylight hours.

What use some future state that never comes,
or dusty, faded memories grown old,
their polished surface worn from excess handling?
The bird is in the bush, never the hand.

Let loose your tongue and find a better song,
one free from someone else’s maudlin words!
There is a song that only you can sing.
If you don’t start it now, no one else will.

11 AUG 2025

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Time Enough

Published on August 7, 2025

If there is time enough for this and that,
for endless hours to deconstruct ennui
and countless minutes lost in might have been,
then surely there is room for something more.

The clock’s always correct just once a day.
It never moves or gives itself away,
but blithely watches on as we digress,
or find another way to sit and spin.

But we are no mere aspic holding on
to minuscule and tasteless bits of life.
Our grip can only wrestle with our grasp,
and neither proves adhesive in the end.

What else would you have time enough to try?
The busyness of spectacle consumes
so much of what could be but never is,
and leaves us much more lonely than alone.

If there is time to waste, why make much more?
There isn’t any race left us to run.
We hear eternal echoes but have learned to hate our ears.
There’s always time enough to try again.

06 Aug 2025

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No More Martyrs

Published on July 24, 2025

I don’t want to be your obsession.
I don’t want to be your life lesson.
I don’t want to be your physician.
I can’t be your last condition.

I don’t want to be your sole reason.
I don’t want to be your best season.
I don’t want to be your solution.
I won’t be your whole revolution.

I don’t want to be your creation.
I don’t want to be your sedation.
I don’t want to be your reflection.
I can’t be your friendly suggestion.

I don’t want to be your only choice.
I don’t want to be your master’s voice.
I don’t want to be your rival.
I can’t be your hope for survival.

I don’t want to be your obsession.
I don’t want to be your life lesson.
I don’t want to be your sweet nothing.
I won’t be your last chance at something.

24 Jul 2025

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Like Sri Ramakrishna quipped (or maybe “quipped” isn’t quite the right word), we’re all just salt dolls sent out to measure the depth of the ocean. And you don’t need to drink more than a spoonful to figure out the whole thing is salty. Good thing, too, since our little buckets don’t hold all that much water. No matter where we kneel on the shore and dip our bucket, no matter what we call it out there and then when it’s in our bucket, no matter what the shrines we build there look like and who we think is right enough to get in, we’re all drinking the same Kool-Aid, ultimately. When we drink from the source, that is. Anything else is like decaffeinated coffee – brown disappointment water. But what we do on the shore doesn’t really matter in the long run. Because once we get out into the sea, and I don’t mean just a pinky-toe at the edge of the surf, or a brief jump off the boat for a cooling swim, but when you’re out up to your chest and can just feel the sand under your toes. That’s when it happens. You start to melt. Your salt and the salt in the ocean aren’t separate salinities trapped in different decorative shakers. Together, you and the sea are the record player capable of playing a record that contains the frequencies to disintegrate the record player. You never get more than one chance to make a first (or last) impression. You’re traveling at the speed of now. Nothing to prove and all night long to do it in.

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The Time Not Now: villanelle

Published on July 14, 2025

The time not now will never come to pass.
What is born here today, this day will die.
All this that is was never built to last.

The past does not go slow, nor future fast,
yet both what is and was confuse the eye.
The time not now will never come to pass.

Enjoy this moment’s rich and full repast,
its laughter, tears, brief hours and gentle sighs.
All this that is was never built to last.

The flags for yesterday don’t fly half mast,
nor need us wringing hands with woeful cries.
The time not now will never come to pass.

There is no back and forth, the die is cast.
What you know now is all you’ll realize.
All this that is was never built to last.

There just time to focus on this task,
not what waits in your wheelhouse by-and-by.
All this that is was never built to last.
The time not now will never come to pass.

14 Jul 2025

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What You See: triolet

Published on July 11, 2025

What you see is what you get.
Be careful since the eyes can lie –
a simple truth we often can forget:
what you see is what you get,
and once you’ve got it, you’re in debt
to those who’ve shown you what to buy.
What you see is what you get.
Be careful, since the eyes can lie.

You may not get what you deserve.
There is no fair exchange on high,
no sacred balance to preserve.
You may not get what you deserve.
The masters change, the source may swerve,
but we all live, and serve, and die.
You may not get what you deserve.
There is no fair exchange on high.

The only time you have is now.
There is no past or future tense
to look for or work through, somehow.
The only time you have is now,
and in this moment is allowed
the brief chance to experience
the only time you have is now.
There is no past or future tense.

11 JUL 2025

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Ignorance <> Bliss: sonnet (terza rima)

Published on July 9, 2025

If ignorance is bliss, why are so few
of us enraptured by our current state,
imagining so much left us to do

and in a worried struggle with our fate?
That does not seem so blissful or serene.
We try, but often miscommunicate

and fail to share with others what we mean.
This leaves us in the dark, and quite alone,
afraid that our own shadows are obscene.

It does no good to live life like a stone.
The human spirit cries to become more,
to grow and learn beyond mere flesh and bone.

If ignorance is merely our cocoon,
we must try metamorphosis – and soon.

09 Jul 2025

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Tag: awareness

Sing a Morning Song

Time Enough

No More Martyrs

Salt Dolls in the Sea

The Time Not Now: villanelle

What You See: triolet

Ignorance <> Bliss: sonnet (terza rima)