The boatman
Has set his sights on travel,
With his ancient oar,
all on his own.
And he will journey far
To distant places
that he well knows,
And where he is
well known.
He is grateful
for good fortune
for all charitable hearts
Along his flowing road,
And for the safe directions
in which
The winds have blown.
In an instant
He was everywhere
And nowhere,
Simultaneously
In a thought,
In a note of music,
In a ray of light
Between the branches
Of a summer’s tree,
Witnessing the most intimate of
Conversations,
And love was manifest
Everywhere,
And it was all so overwhelming,
Yet so instantly easy.
Some illuminated evening
when the lights are all aglow
we will sit and sip the fragrance
of each other’s company
and these,
the warm lit faces,
that we know.
There is something
being said
in this little world
we live in.
We are all
intimately connected.
Every thing we do
reverberates
at frequencies
We cannot know.
I give you the
solitude
Of my heart,
Hoping it may blossom into
A wild bouquet of flowers , into a sudden buzz of cicadas,
Or the sound of ocean waves
Against some lost shore at night.
In everyone’s backyard
If you listen closely
You can
hear the sound
of Hearts,
seeds,
Breaking wide, and
Rising through
The earth to
Open once again
In a full view.
The leaves glisten in
The wind and sun.
The day proceeds
waving
Forever,
lost in the bleeding delirium of honeyed light
Who has said to death,
Go and leave me
For a season.
Let me rest easy.
You are a shirt
Blue and white
Or black
That will go
to Goodwill;
You are
wrinkled papers
and other things
Folded waiting
in the pockets
of time;
And we must make a
New start in
This latter time,
We must have the patience,
And be willing to say :
Leave me for
a season,
As a coursing
Resolute
Heart,
fresh in new thought.
Like a one way train
On a one way track
We’re not likely ever coming back.
Wonder if we ever will
And who knows
just where
We’re going now ?
We’ll only know when we
Arrive
We’ll just
Sit still and stare
And wonder why
and where we are
and whether
we will stay alive
Like a one way train
On a one way track
We’re likely not ever coming back.
Wonder if we ever will?
We’ll just sit there
ever silent
Still
Wondering where we are.
And why?
Are there answers that
Will fill the gap?
Are there answers to the
why and where on this cosmic map?
It’s not likely
so we just sit there wondering still
Wondering where
we’re at and listening to
the whistle shrill
Like a one way train
On a one way track
We’re likely not ever coming back.
Wonder if we ever will?
I wonder if we ever will?
The boatman’s black hair
has grown long
And his beard a peppered grey
His body has grown thin and older
But he still plays
His oar turned mandolin
and keeps his many golden secrets
as he sits and moves across the
shore.
PWChaltas 