Wobble

Can you imagine,
introspectively

More than just
the circle of your friends

A line running way past the present,
even seeing around corners,

where one life begins
another ends

Adding
all the angles

of your ancestral humanity
From subtle beginnings

every source
of humble blends,

beyond all awareness
of just who it is

you think you are.

Not to mention
whoever it is you
may claim to be

extending further
than the full sphere
of your interactions.

One step past
what used to be
called infinity

to the threshold
of the periphery

Of where anyone
who has ever held a claim

To be adventurous,
has ever chanced to dream

Was so damn scared,
had to make a deal with God.

Faith put to the test
in a prayer to let them see  

What comes next.

Even if, it meant

they couldn't ever
return to talk about it,

to teach anyone who might desire
 a chance to learn

what terminal point
redemption could ever settle
with the great unknown

Like the first broad strokes
of the brush,

painted the first symbols
across the sands of time

To step
upon the virgin snow
of creativity

To revel in the treasury
of spiritual reverence

To bask
in the soft warming glow,
to see,
know  

Feeling reflections
written across souls
of all those

Who dared
cross the stream,
reading between lines

See themselves
fitting discretely,
in the complexity

The behind the scenes,
connectivity...

To skip a stone
upon the surface
of the pond

Lost in the wealth
of the myriad potentialities

Drifting in the winds
of time and space

More than a simple soul
on this rock we roll on

A sentinel seeing through the light  
And into the darkness

Through the mists
of times before?  

Seeing the unseen,
knowing more about  

How lightning bolts fly
than nature could provide

to learn by bending light
back twice upon itself

as if by circumstance,
as we find ourselves

Following in the patterns of ideas
we've come to know
as reasonable facsimiles

of the truth about who of what,
we've managed to come to be.

Just as the flow of the raindrops
falling through the clouds,

ride the winds,
down through space
to the earth below.
Rising and circling
back down,
to find life

within the living.
Not just
to blindly follow
the path of least resistance,

as it is said...  

Though,
how many times
does this interactive path
Come full circle

like hailstones,
gathering multiple coats,

like snowflakes,
drifting quietly as ghosts.

As we have mastered
seven different modes of fire

to melt our butter,
warm our toast

yet, why are we not yet wise enough
to dissipate the waves of intolerance,

before they rise and ride  

In the tides of pain,

misery, death …and war?  

What are we thinking about?

Going somewhere…  

Else?

C2   

 
Copyright ©2022 Charles Edward Fields 2