the meaning of …

carrying these dark, cold, oppressive burdens
as the furtive winter clouds, threatening to release their secrets
onto unsuspecting umbrella-heads dashing home on Friday nights
for to be human is to see a future, to imagine fear, to know the meaning of …

craving for peace and innocence in dreamy sleep
like friendly snow, taking away the jagged edges of fearful forests
fashioning softened outlines of reality, within white skies, afore magical minds
for to be human is to recall the past, to recognize the cold, to know the meaning of …

hoping for another day in an endless sky of days
only this smallest of gifts, to allow the final turn of such improbable creation
to tell the tale, to write the words, to rest painless solutions in wide-eyed children
for to be human is to ponder the now, to see the transitions, to know the meaning of …

©2005 Hey Hey

I remember the Roshi said

"'Reality' is the name we give it."

The "it" being that of which you write so perfectly in this poem, that which is contained in the ellipses, that which follows "the meaning of..."

I love that you leave it that way, because that is actually accurate and truthful, to my way of thinking and according to what little I know.

There is a beautiful symmetry, a circularity, and a sense of the moment to this poem which I enjoy deeply and appreciate.

"for to be human is to ponder the now"

Your poem is both profoundly insightful and deeply satisfying, my dear friend and fellow poet.

Thank you!

Love,

+Stevie

Hey, Hey Hey!

I just wrote the above, and then the mail came. I ploughed through all sorts of stupid stuff, bills, advertisements... and then I found: a Christmas card from you! Hooray!

I really appreciate it, my friend; it's especially nice to get something in the mail from the UK, and particularly nice to get something from you.

I wish the UK had some sort of "Law of Return," as I understand they do in Israel; what I need is a deal whereby Anglophiliac gentlemen of letters whose grandfathers came here could just go home. That's what I want to do. Bush has three more years! Aaaaaagh!

As I write this I am amused at myself to note that my cup has a Union Jack on it, there is one flying outside Studio Lance, and another on the clean shirt which I will put on after I shower (slothful sluggard which I am, I have not done that yet; I have the excuse that I have been working).

Thanks again for the card and the wishes. Merry Christmas to you too!

Save a place over there for me just in case, would you?

Love,

+Stevie

Such an imagination you have, my dear. such an imagination. You made me feel as if I was standing there in the middle of this poem. Awesome write..
misty...

Thanks you guys. Happy Times 4 Ever.