Posts tagged “rhyming

call and response

stretch out your hand in trepidation

open your palm with your frightened eyes shut

do you trust the gifts you’re given?

neither do I, yet we both risk the touch

often our reaching has brought us to ruin

there have been serpents disguised as doves

like a fisherman, your sight is blocked by the surface

like a fish, you so seldom look up

in your chest is a heart and each pump starts a pulse

your body is water; your heart is a stone

a stone splashes once and the ripples convulse

every vein channels rhythm and urges the flow

your pulse is a call to you: open your hand

gifts may betray but will not fail to teach you

I once wished for love and got wisdom instead

each gift you accept is a bite you can’t chew

you will swallow the bitterest dose of reality

you will wish you had never unfolded your fist

even in pain your pulse will keep beckoning

you are constantly summoned to open your gifts

stretch out your hand in trepidation

open your palm with your frightened eyes shut

do you trust the life you’re given?

neither do I, yet we both risk the touch

fly

[this post appeared first on Torrey Gazette]


astonishment

astonish

In your endless quest for progress,
when you are ceaselessly tending your mind,
you cultivate the finer elements of intelligence,
insisting on the necessary climate;
insisting on learning to thrive in it.
It’s intrinsic: this constant adjustment
and movement. Simplistic reductions won’t do it.
Recalcitrant neurons must renounce skepticism
and fall into place like a game of Tetris; wisdom is
beckoning like a professor inviting you
to think, like the brink of a scientific discovery,
like a melody gleefully smashing your boundaries.
When all these analogies intrude on your privacy,
you, the cartographer, channel the pathways
of mental activity and, as though you were gardening,
you find time to plant and to water, to weed and to fertilize
the soil of your mind. So through all of it, I ask this:
That in your endless quest for progress,
you would cultivate astonishment.
The quick breath of it; the open eyes that enable it,
and with all of this, a propensity to discern the beauty
in every ordinary chord of reality’s performance:
that indecipherable symphony in which we are
indispensable miracles, feeling ourselves in it;
integrally at home in it.

[this post appeared first on Torrey Gazette]