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!

Life: An Economics Problem

How does one solve the God-given problems
of illness, old age, disability, and poverty?

These are for us to become who we were supposed to become,
and to learn to love the way we were meant to love.

These are designed to stop us in our pointless pursuits,
and engineered to point us in another more meaningful direction. 

These are not problems to be solved or overcome,
but they are the lessons that lead us to an understanding of the problem.

These bring us to life's edge where we strain to peer in to the other side,
and they allow us to look back at life from a better vantage point.

These are not life's obstacles;
They are its very essence.

My Path in Fall

Those beautiful
yellows and browns
obscure the path
beneath my rounds.

But  you, path, are still
mine, and as such
unchanged you are
where my feet touch.

Changing colors
precede decay
and then, their shield
is blown away,

revealing what
I knew at birth;
and as I aged
I'd learned your worth.

Peace

May I never sing
with the chorus of the shrill,
or blend my voice
with the angry throng,
or lend my name
to those that mock.

What pretended nobility
enlists such to its cause?
What imagined virtue
requires its volume?
And what manner of justice
can endure its presence?