Written in September of 2017
The curtain falls on a single scene-
The soliloquy of smiling man.
Who laughed (and cursed) and cried,
And speaking thus: “Alas,”
He died.
Alas! Poor adam, who God knew once:
Formed from dust and breath and words!
He was the creature that strolled with God,
Crafted in likeness of the divine-
Humble dust exalted.
Alas, poor adam, (who knew God, once)
Frames himself in cosmic dust!
He calls himself a breeding beast,
Built in the likeness of environment-
Humble dust Evolved
Alas, poor adam, God knew him once:
Flowering grass that gave delight-
The word has lost the meaning
And the Likeness returns to dust
After a while we begin to learn that life is more than molecules
And we learn that science is not salvation
And faith is not ignorance
We begin to learn that bias is human
and that no one sees with objectivity
We begin to learn that life is governed by six billion perspectives,
Each struggling to stand on some common ground
And we begin to learn that no space permits two people
We learn that a standing point cannot be shared
And we learn we really are alone and unique
And we learn to accept our losses as well as our gains
And we learn- and we learn
We learn that wisdom is no safeguard from foolishness
And fate is unused to making plans
And we learn to build on today because the future is insecure in itself
We learn to face our defeats with patience and our triumphs with grace
And we learn to smile through our broken hearts
And after awhile, we learn to live
I forgot my keys
A Black Cat crossed my path
So I want to sleep
An observation
The persistence of those few
Who fall low but rise
Lady dear lovely, look lazily to me
And smile so tranquil and sweet.
Dare we believe in the idle-ly maybe
Yof strangers who barely could meet?
Ah, by the drifting of waft-hazy clouds
Plaintive shadows fall faint-slow from above
Over the streets and busy bustle of crowds
Evoking some hearts to sweet mem’ries of love
Moments of lone longing with heavy sighs
Fireside musings of a lover’s eyes
Or other quaint symptoms of this repose
Reducing sweet sen’ments to poetic rows
Mayhap some others with sorrowful eyes
Yearn on in silence without dreary sighs
Daring to dream of a far deeper love
Enclosed somewhere hidden from peering crowds
A way far beyond in the heavens above
Reclined in the drifting of waft-hazy clouds
How pretty are the falling leaves
Which faint as wind blows by
Even as the willow grieves
And trees begin to cry
Though their boughs are born away
And snow falls o’er barren stave
Night is but a part of day
And cold is warmth the fire gave
So take the boughs and drying leaves
And lay them with our memories
Which this sleepy thought retrieves
Then edging close to warmer be
Staying safe from winter breeze
As snow descends on land and trees
Though we wanted to fight without gore
We failed and fought a long war
Now the slaves are all free
And by God it may be
That we’ll heal without suff’ring more.
I am afraid. Yes, I: fearful.
The smallest noise makes me tearful:
A kitten on a summer lawn
Seems to me a devil’s spawn,
And little poofs of paws and fur
Seem to me a clever lure
Designed to draw me closer in
And their bloody feasts begin.
These are only small, remember,
Lacking weapons to dismember:
Neither teeth, nor vicious claws
Nor vile barbs and gaping jaws-
Those are things I will not mention
They take far too much attention
From the thing that I fear most
More than goblin, grim or ghost
More than crooks and evil men
More than caves and shadowed glen
More than poverty, sin, or vice,
More than plagues from field mice
More than all a host of things
And all the darkest of the beings
What I fear most brings me such stress:
I fear failure and success
LoV-Write 