I do not return to perfect trees.
I return to the gnarled oak, rising alone amongst the stones,
To the burned ash, fresh leaves greeting the rising sun,
To the bound bonsai, constrained by ego yet still a tree.
I do not return to perfect trees
Except to note in verdant forests
All look alike
Yet no two rise the same.
I do not return to perfect trees
Nor clear glass windows
Nor professed saints
Yet find God upon each return.
Over ten years from now,
Only some of today’s Great Men of Capital
Will be remembered.
Over one hundred years from now,
Only a few of today’s Great Men of Power
Will be lionized.
Over one thousand years from now,
Only a smattering of today’s Great Men of Philosophy
Will be sung of.
Over ten thousand years from now,
Even their impact
Will be eclipsed
By the multiple of great men
Who through their small examples
Taught their children
To plant blossoms
In the gardens
Of their souls.
Great Men
Will be eclipsed
By great men.
I believe men and women want the same thing:
To be loved on their terms.
I also believe this is not
The path to a successful relationship.
Successful relationships negotiate terms.
They start with a slow unveil of wants,
Cemented with a fast & furious exchange of
Gives
And gets
And gives
And gets
That without fanfare morphs into
Offers
And accepts
And offers
And accepts
And finally into
Anticipations
And reciprocations
And anticipations
And reciprocations
Until one day they realize they want the same thing:
To be loved on their terms.
Places are not sacred.
The people we share them with
Make them so.
And sometimes, when I share them
With no one but myself,
I know I am not alone.
If all goes to plan,
The victim will get
Poisoned, then
Stabbed, then
Shot by a ray-gun.
Sickness is just a thing
Worry is just a thing
Support is just a thing
Love is just a thing
There will be things
Until there are no things
I take joy
In having things
They were considering
A Mexican vacation
Before her diagnosis.
Now they wonder…
Can her
Cancer
Cancel
Cancun?
How beautiful it is to be paralyzed by fear for the health of a loved one – in those moments the preciousness of what we have is manifest.
Alas, a thinking warrior has but one fate:
To die outside, or die inside.
Time is but a shared delusion of all instances in all universes
While obtaining his degree in statistics at a world-renowned mathematics university, Carl’s inauthentic dalliances with punk rock, gothic clothing, and anarchism fooled no-one, including himself.
At best, he was one sub-standard deviation from the norm.
I am looking forward to
This moment
That I remember fondly
One does not drive the ocean
Nor cage the seas
Nor calm the waters
Waterways open today
Are closed tomorrow
As forces beyond control
Remake the world
That does not mean
One sits in irons
Awaiting the tsunami
Break out the sextants
Look to the stars
Put fingers in the air
Hoist, hoist, hoist
I have nothing to fear
Nothing wakes me from my sleep
Nothing haunts my waking moments
Nothing awaits me on judgement day
Yet as I run towards nothing
To escape nothing
You reach to stop me
And your touch is better than nothing
There is here
There is there
Do not spend
So much time
There
You miss
What’s happened
Here
The pious elephants
And atheist pelicans
Respectfully attended
The eloquent celebrant
And as the elephants
Trumpeted reverence
The heretical pelicans
Felt out of their element
If you are worried about climate change,
Fight;
Otherwise the meek shall inherit the earth.
Work-life balance implies static harmony — stacked stones upon the sea shore. Yet a strong wind, or a dogs leg, can cause a tumble.
Work-life dancing is more my ideal: graceful gliding across the floor, neither too much stillness nor stumbling; smooth transitions reacting to the world’s music.
So I seek to dance with grace, and recognizing a child’s dance (as it discovers its body) has its own grace, I acknowledge I am still but a babe.
I look forward to my death
For wallowing in the past
Means I miss the opportunity
To see her coming
And (perhaps) prolong the time
Before our inevitable date
Left to our own devices, we started a worldwide neck pain epidemic.
A. B. Clarke 