Tuesday, March 14, 2017

Three Poem Re-Drafts

The Speed of Thought

The speed of thought, they say, is swift,
but this, I think, is mostly false.
As giving only ends in gift,
so thinking only ends in all.
Through epochs, eons, ages slow,
unfinished yet our thought has been,
an ice-sea glacier's icy flow;
and unforeseen is thinking's end,
for every mind by love begot
has moved but centimeter's pace --
and incomplete is every thought,
remaindered to some future days.
The circles filled with stars are vast,
their orbits slowly turn in place;
and over ages thought must last
and time itself in circles chase.
And when completed is our run,
we leave our thinking incomplete,
a task continued, never done,
like turtles racing swifter feet.

Rust and Fire

One in kind are rust and fire.

Ruin is combustion slow;
flaming quickly is desire.

Flame will have the brighter glow,
spread the fiercer, fairer light;
wood must rust with aching speed,
give but transient delight.

Death is from consuming need,
craving turns to cinder each,
eating deep down through the heart,
universal in its reach,
dark, corrosive, part by part.

Decadence with more control
will corrosion spread abroad;
iron burns in part and whole
from air and malice of the gods.

Decay is merely slow desire:
one in kind are rust and fire.

Discourse of St. Symeon

Who stands upon the ocean-shore
and looks out to horizon's end
may in its vastness somewhat share
though still be bound upon the sand;
such see in truth the boundless sea
and yet the sea extends beyond;
unbounded sea they truly saw
and yet their seeing had a bound.
Yet, not content that they but see,
are others who will splash and wade,
and what shall we of these folk say
who feel the waves roll strong and wet?
They too the endless ocean share
and thus are conscious and made full,
far more than any on the shore,
of fullness, depth, and overflow.
But will not those who wade out lose
their vision as the water weaves
a wall through which their eyes see less
of anything but wave on wave?
And to the one who simply swims
all but the ocean then will fade;
to such a soul the world then seems
to be but currents that enfold.
And so it is with glory bright!
And thus and so will be the lot
of those who by God's grace are brought
to God Himself, the Sea of Light.

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