A Place of Moderation In

When we create collages of what we
For our lives in the future wish to see
It often seems to the limited mind
That we portray impossibility

And yet encouraged are to onward press
Our most genuine yearnings to confess
Op'ning to that to which we have been blind
Which may with our desires we grateful bless

We are instructed not to limit our
Conception of the level of our pow'r
Benighting self with practicality
Constricting all otherwise freed to show'r

Upon us from limitless abundance in
The universe we find ourselves within
Comprising all that may possibly be
To access which we only must begin

Believing truly in our fitness for
Admission through that op'ning inner door
To realms which rationally may have been
To us inaccessible just before

When I my fond conception formulate
Of a preferred and preferential fate
Considering how best 'twere to begin
I am a place of moderation in

That money leads not necessarily
To happiness, everyone now agree
Nor doth it so a household fame to win --
What back of these allurements really be

In which their pursuers genuinely 
Anticipate reveling happily
And for which they make such sacrifice of
Those many blessings which may nearer be

Leisure, reflection, recreation, sleep
What doth them on the treadmill dogged keep?
Can 't be receipt of ordinary love
For which they dig so furious and deep?

And can it be that's not the worst of it
From genuine regard so separate
In lofty pathway's isolated tread
They will accept such blatant counterfeit

As servile smiles domestic helpers from
Grateful for any carelessly thrown crumb
Of carefully lower quality bread?
Can tragic privilege so blind become

That cooing salesmen's lisping blandishment
Considered is as genuinely meant
And genuine also the venal smile
Of the expert feminine revenant?

It's not the means unto the wished for end
On which I now must focus to amend
Whate'er hath been delaying me this while
Nor method upon which we here depend

What we are seeking is the last result
In which we wish directly to exult
Once our collage hath opened us unto
The joy into which we will catapult!

A poet, I here my collage create
By using words this vision to relate
Affirmative words, and constructive too
For we wish nothing holy to negate

And we regard as holy all that is
Including that in which we've been remiss
Creating wisdom, if also delay
Upon the pathway to deserving bliss

E'en while it's still in process you can see
My vision board is full of poetry
Which thirteen thousand times now has been read
By someone I may never meet or see

This life aspect is retroactively
Energized by the board, for only three
Short months ago that hope was all but dead
By obstacles which loomed financially

Preventing necessary purchases
That I hurt hearts with poesy may bless
For which an awesome price I've willing paid
Enduring untold anguish and duress

To synthesize this central message that
By such extreme contortion I begat
Securely its foundation hath been laid
Of how we may progress from this to That

So they visual affirmation be
Of truly endless possibility
The poems of my vision make the heart
And clustered round them, what is it we see?

There faces are, a couple or a few
Or many, and 'tis unimportant too
In my existence how they play their part
In what capacity our friendship grew

What matters is each time they chance to see
My presence nearing their proximity
A smile lightens the lip and, too, the eye
Made joyful by myself genuinely

There be somewhere nearby a quiet room
In which my writing self I may entomb
Tranquility its solitude belie
Birthing the Word from out a peaceful womb

A window there lets all the sunshine in
From when the first birds of the morn begin
Therewith their melodies to fill the air
Till the last purple cloud is gathered in

After which it then shuts up all tight
And snug against the predatory night
So there be given no dark quarter there
To that away my healthful sleep afright

No person in my near vicinity
Well or even slightly known by me
Any action ever seeks to take
Will leave me of my safety fearing be

In that room I'm at full liberty for
Practices others freely may abhor
Which no harm do me but please the Muse
The smoke of herbs, dark roast with cream galore

An inexpensive touchscreen for the hand
From which I send to every earthly land
Products of those few resources I use
Then when I leave to travel overland

Surrounding forces friendly will protect
Creative mien so easily suspect
Assisting brilliancy where it is weak
So it the populace doth not reject

Reflexively -- on my behalf to tell
Them though colorful I mean well
I need not for myself attempt to speak
Persuading them upon the gifts to dwell

Which I've collected this whole lifetime through
Only hoping, only hoping to
Extended be a harmonious chance
To give them out, to give them out to you

In short, in my surround is quietness
Respect and love, genuine happiness
Enough food to a small child's portion make
And precious time my literature bless

What's left to do? This image now we bless
Into its heart divine white light we press
Asking as it through inner eye we view
We with each blessing only good will do

Remembering the lessons that we learned
When in vague winds of karma spinning turned
And how we swore, given the op'ning to
Assistance of our fellow beings burned

As the prime motivator in our soul
Then abdicating not that noble role
Because we've come a peaceful place unto
Remembering we yet must serve the whole

The benediction made, the blessing asked
Through creativity we stand unmasked
And yet perchance the placing it on view
Helps to complete that with which we've been tasked

There yet remains this ceremony to
Finish with but a word of pow'r or two
Amen, Ameen, Aho, So Mote it Be
They Are this Message: Each Equally True



Ana Daksina View All →

A poet is the strangest sort of soul
You in this life may e'er expect to meet
More broken even while more truly whole,
Innocently intending well, more sweet

Than any but a five year old should be
Unfit to meet a callused world's demand
Or to behave aught expediently
All grace in flight; an albatross on land

Do not the all too common error make
Do not fall into the too easy trap
Avoid the fatal egoic mistake
Imagining that poet be a sap

Powerful spirits classic and antique
Give voice when poets ope their mouths to speak

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