Sunday, April 19, 2015

A Poem Called 'Transcencence'


A sequence
such as with the beginning of a deep, extended storm;
clear sky, high cirrus, light breeze, gusty wind,
and that hardly perceived plunging atmospheric pressure and squall line-
and despite our worst efforts and battle lines,
we still live each to each,
mouth to ear,
eye to eye and soul.

In our bantam lives and within self-made bastions of ego,
we are acted upon at least as much as the opposite
only because the human genius for optimism is a remainder
of an instinctual legacy;
the obstinate skill to live and little more,
a confident distraction, free of much resolve besides,
a push and a shove past any other will-
sincerely a bit less the flawless, righteous grace
that religious and business success pundits preach.

And with that soft lie shoved on its side
to wriggle like a beetle within its glittering, protective carapace
(having forgotten its wings)
we ought to reexamine our own divine,
mutual, careful perception
as the more genuine and insightful human vanguard,
able to inform hope in pressure and light
a little more adapted to this present storm
than any blindered, breathy voice might assign in church,

no matter the sequence or tempest outside.

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