Like a great standing stone
Is the wise man
Is the great man
Within me
Like the timbers
Of a ship’s hull
He braves seas
He braves storms
Yet so like the wind
Is that wise man
Is that great man
Within me
Who is ever-present
Yet ungraspable
One moment there
Then gone
To look is not to see
To hear is not to listen
To sense is not to know
Nor is to speak, to speak wisdom
With quiet grace
And thoughtful slowness
It rides currents
Seen without sight
As in its world
It exists with
Beside
Near
Over
Under
Never less or greater
Only ever a part
It is with joy
That I face that shadow
With joy
That I walk a darkened road
With joy
That I brave the cold of winter
With joy
That I confront the unknown
I am too little certain
For a man of principle
Too little learned
For a man of letters
Too little wise
For a man who listens
Too little
For many things
Still
Time remains
In the deepness
Of a moment
I find multitudes
Of stars:
Knowledge
Wonder
Fury
Calm
Wisdom
Innocence
Dullest grey and brilliant light
Pervade my senses
Each not without the other
And I with both
Gleaming dewdrops
Frozen by December’s chill
Sparkling under the sunrise
In the briefest moment
Before they return
To the earth
Let us go
Into the forest
And look not at the trail
But follow the branches
And the leaves
And the speckled sunlight
That peeks through the canopy
Let us go
Out to sea
And look not to the shoreline
But follow the gulls
And the waves
And the sparkling stars
As they break the night’s veil
Let us go
Along a road
Unknown
Only for that we have not yet tread upon it
A fire am I
Not still
Not cool
Not waiting
But fluid
Full of heat
Destroying and creating
From the dead of the world
I make what has not been seen before
And in the briefest moment
After too many breaths
It disappears
But I remain
Fire
Bury me beneath the trees
Where I might feed them
As they have done for me
A Poem A Day 