Asleep in a still pool of water

Asleep in a still pool of water;
the figure balances atop
without disturbing the
balance.

Even the thought of a ripple –
would rock the water awake,
the figure has cleared
his mind.

Can you feel its quietness?
The sound of an empty mind
falling out of consciousness,
neither asleep nor awake?

It is hard to imagine
the sound of the space
and moment between
the two worlds we know best.

A third place, where the figure
finds his mind’s rest, is not
a beginning or a destination,
question or answer.

It is rather a state
of such tremendous peace,
that it brings a foe like worry
to its knees.

The hall of science and study

“Thou still unravished bride of quietness,
Thou foster child of silence and slow time” – John Keats

*                                      *                                              *                                                 *

You are abandoned and stuck between two roadways. You are held captive behind waving chain-linked fences and razor wire. You are now not much to look at, with your pits of concrete rubble and grass and weeds. They wack away at every inch of you night and day; crews take turns reducing you to nothing but memories kept in picture frames.

But I’ll remember you. I promise I will. I know you were more than they say in the papers. You were a great hall of science and study. Secret meetings were held in your basement. Scholars and students were published from your offices above. I am a product of your protecting walls. I am a former gazer-out of your grand windows. I snuck in one night and kept a bit of your faux corinthian column. I am a pillar of knowledge now because you wanted to help me learn.

For Sure

I constantly have to slow down and reset.

  • When I get really sad
  • When I become overly confident and emotional
  • When I take things too seriously

I always have to reset and when I do, I ask myself the same question:
What do you know for sure?

My faith is not bulletproof. My relationships aren’t either. Few things are.

I do know for sure that I enjoy driving late at night and contemplating. Thinking about whatever I feel is pressing and worth mulling over. For the same reason, I enjoy walking, deep in thought, after the sun has gone down.

There is something peaceful about the quiet of a December night and the feeling that everyone in the world is tucked away in their beds, but me. It isn’t so much that I feel powerful, but perhaps that I am experiencing a special moment designed for me centuries ago.

Frequently, I come to the conclusion that I can’t come to any conclusions. I struggle to define what really matters. However, the things I know for sure, center around ideas like: peace, contentment and tranquility. Quiet moments of clarity give me a glimpse of what is important and what is lasting. Those things, I want to hold on to forever.

Still

Why this love for music
But a voice no one loves?
Why do you want me to play
When no one else does?

Why do I write poetry
That people don’t read?
Why do I pretend
You’re all that I need?

Why do I have talent
That sits on the shelf?
Why do you keep thinking
I don’t need any help?

Oh, where do you go,
On nights like last night?
Where do you go,
Unmistakable light?

How come it’s so hard
To get out of my bed?
And yet even harder
To get out of my head?

I practice and practice
For a day that won’t come
I fight and I fight
For a war that is won

Of pains, I know many
I seem to master them all
These pains ne’er subside
Not a single one small

You have made me a glutton
For sorrow and grief
A prisoner of pain
A sadness motif

And yet I get up
As each night dies
Still I get up
And still I rise