Caelum et Terra
Sipping too-hot-tea, made with one-spoons-sugar and little remorse for caffeine,
chemicals bonding with my laughing brain, but not amounting to much
on the cold summer's wane; while frogs and geese from the landfill-turned-nature-park exalt their songs of praise to the left
and, diminishing, the busy clamor of Suburbia closes up shop to the right,
I close my eyes and take vigil in the solace of the night.
Phone flung far-off, battery of silicon-lithium-blood-stew, not amounting to anything, really.
Streaks of cobalt dreams cannot atone alone for sounding
water-damaged jungles' blues; yet, I suffer glass curved whichever-which-way 'round
tangible corners of my eyes, my mind. Fright in settling slumber lay —
I think that I met God today! — in a strikingly fantastic and all-too-real way.
I did not see Him in fire, ice, snow, or in the sun's warm-hot-gentle glow,
but scales fell from my eyes, and ever-so-slow yet suddenly (always suddenly),
I recalled and realized how brilliant sky and humble
trees, listing windlessly in breeze self-compelled,
spoke volumes to the volume which I this night beheld.
Books-filled-up with apology sheared away, the sheer
bright illuminance of the day, metaphorically (always metaphorically),
set to rest my doubt-clad gray. Thoughts or saddened nihilism which,
if you believe it, deserve a say. But I do not, and hence
the solemn, kneeling — yes, kneeling — unself-recompense.
"Seeing is not believing, reason is." But I saw 'midst falling
shocked-and-awed, that this, logic-for-logic's-sake, perhaps is somewhat flawed.
Ever-the-artist and locked in vanity of how to relay my most recent find I…
gradually, single-or-double-mindedly, ceded to rest.
I forget most the fray, mystical or less.
"Study hard," I taught, since I, student-for-life (or student-till-death) so loved the
flaxen statues' shine. Of thoughts divine! And stalwart cause. "Defend, ye little one,
thine holy laws." But were I aware of God as I am now, I would declare it all in
vain: nothing but animal-fed-straw. I proclaimed my faith in bearded sages,
instead of nature, reason, down-past-ages — wisdom, where faith in cages…
…'stead of experience rules, is all for naught. How freeing!
I think that I met God today. In the grass, or swinging by the sunlit-backlit-moon.
In tea-too-hot by nature's song, still encupped with silver spoon. Not in shine or thunder-striking,
but instead by time alone. Not in my vain intellect or liking — yet in dying-selfish-dreams —
being alone, being content, being alive, and seeing.
page revision: 4, last edited: 20 Sep 2024 17:50