Faith

In darkness and in cold
we walk, stumbling
then tiny light!
Still we do not see
all that we thought to find;
but we press along,
waiting to feel
and to see what we
already knew was there.

To the Pianist

Sit up, sit quietly, drop your shoulders,

raise your chest, relax your neck, and listen;
for all of the music ever written,
every sigh, every tear, every laugh,
is playing instantly, simultaneously, now,
freed of the temporal line that binds the player.

Wait until you hear it, until you feel its pulse;
and then, only then are you authorized
to place your hands upon the keys,
to allow the weight of your arm
to carry you downward, plunging
into the universal chorus.

Play it never boastingly, and never shyly,
for we are only one of the harmonies,
and even the most salient of our melodies
is but a counterpoint, suspended
against the tune of the Creator
and with the symphony of all of creation.

Rarities

Perfectly pure honey, from
only four-leafed clover;
Rain only in season while
travelling the whole world over.

An unthorned stem that ends in
a rose with no bruised petal;
A hill for children to roll, in
a field devoid of nettle.

The statement I'd intended,
the point I'd wanted made;
doth equally often match that
which was finally conveyed.

Disentangled

And if we add a loophole
And then reform a tax
And adjust the insurance
As per our set of facts,

And if we build an empire,
A fortune is secured,
And then regale cold colleagues
And all our boredom cure,

So much for our accounting,
So little accounted for,
When history writes the epitaphs
On the last unopened door…

What letters have I chosen?
What did my poor name do?
What art have I then given
To those who will ensue?

For science! For language!
For those who would explore!
Heal sick and feed the hungry,
Make music, and more!

For the artists, for the curious,
For whom “Because!” did not suffice;
For those who pushed the boundaries,
And those who sacrificed;

To thinkers, and lovers,
The bold, and the true;
May I sit, eternally,
In council with you!