I’ve been attempting to get a piece out for over a week; everything morphs into something else. Like there’s a riddler inside me determined to keep me going in circles.
Well, that’s annoying.
Hard not to wonder what’s up. So, I ask, is there something that wants expression? (Maybe if I go along, it will leave me be.)
Here’s the reply.
Nothing is as it seems;
now take that to the extreme
then take it a little farther
If you can
You’re just getting started
forget what you’ve been told
or taught
drop the ideas and any sense
of where you think you are
There’s no accident
nor twist of fate
no single path
you didn’t take
it doesn’t work like that
Still
there is choice
Divine-like
choice
Paper tigers all around
hidden histories and books all bound
still, no
it won’t be found there
Debate, disagree
try this one
with your cup of tea
Nope
not that
In the silence
there is sound
In the stillness
beneath the silent-sound
there’s your beginning place
The storm will swirl;
the center’s calm
and where you’ll find
your answer-balm
outside of time
and space
You can’t help
but feel the smile
as you remember
and reclaim
that claim that comes
without a name
Oh yes, you begin to remember
Who smiles through you?
Please don’t strain
there are things
that can’t be named
Oh right,
I remember
Ahh, yes, feels like the eye at the center of the storm of life peeked back and said, "see ya." Love it!
I love opening a Substack to a poem. One to ponder on for awhile. Would love to hear it on a recording if you ever get around to doing something like that. There’s something to understanding a poem with the intended intonations.