example: banner ad
RSS

Error. Page cannot be displayed. Please contact your service provider for more details. (8)

March 26, 2019 | | Comments 0

It’s Early In The Game

March 26, 2019

It’s early in the game and the King has dissolved into a puddle of anonymous goo, but is still wearing his crown in a horizontal no-muss, no-fuss kinda way… Pawns are conspiring to move to Thailand and open up an emu hatchery, the Bishops are eying a brewery in Oslo, the Knights an Arabian-farm in Texas and the Castles, a come back of the pet rock industry, while the Queen is no where to be found, outside a note she left stitched into the board, that reads, “Discovered a rift in the time-space-continuum and going for it: game postponed indefinitely.”

In the midst of adversity and chaos, confusion and dismay, an opportunity to focus on what cannot change, cannot be taken away or manipulated, can come into greater focus and investment: softly seize it or be hard-seized by diamond-smiths.

We get caught up in the storm and forget the soles of our feet, how soft they are, how still eager the toes are to go
forward and wiggle while their keeper sits still and dangles them over a river-rivulet,
how our hands feel and how we feel about ourselves…

Some celebrate being ‘out of the woods’ while opening up a boarding house for loggers: some dwell and become
islands in their own oceans, and that’s appropriate, it must be, the island isn’t arguing and the sun doesn’t
pause on its garden’s opinions of gophers, forgetful tenders and the nocturnal ambitions of snails,
leaf worms and drought…

Time ticks, we forget and recall we forgot but don’t know the contents of that forgotten lot,
We recall half-way and go full-on with that half,
The story adjusts, winks, blinks, cries and becomes blind, learns
braille, hears and learns bird calls, finds new friends and grows a
third lung encompassing the expired two the Earth graciously gave it and breathes in another dimension
of becoming something immeasurably unaccountable for being a Being of such peculiar nature and spirit,

Dragons hatch somewhere real, imprinting their reality upon another solar-system’s
myths and legends department,
A diver surfaces with a net of conch shells and gold,
A swan glides and a father succumbs to an early death,
Somewhere someone’s trying to make sense of it all while All itself is mothering and fathering
that child’s grownup preoccupation withsense-making…

The cauldron is deep, the cauldron is black, the cauldron is bubbling forwards and back,
The chimney is smoking, the bricks thick, broad and warm,
There’s a song being whispered to fairy-babies and boldly roaring somewhere else as a war song,
The peacock sleeps, its hammock is woven of endless dreams and Reality’s mastery of catching up to
them just in time to call them realized and truer than True can stand still and proclaim,

While here you are, reading this, being the wonderer you are and
wondering further on, beyond this page, straight through the alphabet and into your own quiet eyes
of disassembling what you thought would be and what is and has always been a hurricane’s eye
reflecting heartbeats inside and in unison with you…

Entry Information

Filed Under: Michael

About the Author:

RSSPost a Comment  |  Trackback URL