Here is one of three poems published online currently at Wilderness House Literary Review. To read them all, simply visit their website and find my name on the list.
When the wheel of circumstance turns again,
when your brain is back inside its breast
and your heart is in its head,
stroll past the temple, don’t worry.
You left the chests of gold behind,
you didn’t splice your Oneness.
You were fluid in your thinking,
now the beggars have invited you to their table.
Don’t be so hard on yourself.
You were fluid with your money,
for money comes and goes.
You were careful with time,
for time passes.
Who cares what they say?
We’re all so eager to strive,
leap, let go, hold on, be still,
shout, sing, float, rhyme,
be noticed, go unnoticed.
We jump at the chance
to thrust out like rapiers
our views, our narratives,
approving of anyone who pays attention.
We adore our thoughts, love love love them.
It’s so easy to mistake circumstance for choice.
Only sacrifice remembers that chaos is master,
striking at random,
compelling us to examine the ground
beneath the stone we stand on.
Who has strength enough to leave stars alone
and not reach for them?
And in not reaching,
go further than you could have otherwise gone.