Here I am in clouds of gray
the curtain closing on the day
on the horizon the last light
softly lingers before the night
bright voices of day’s gladness
fade away, my heart veiled in sadness.

The blustery afternoon shook the wings
of elm, its leaves, flying golden things
I hear them sing as they fall
then whisper their farewell call
now in the gloaming of the day
the clouds invite rest or a moment to pray.

Ask sursease of sorrow ahead
but dwell not on shores of dread
believe the voice from inside
in each passing moment abide
let go the chains of control
find a piece of joy in your soul.

Maybe if I take the leap of faith
that you will jump into the stream with me
I will enjoy the swim.

“Inertia:   (physics) the tendency of a body to maintain its state of rest or uniform motion unless acted upon by an external force, a disposition to remain inactive or inert”

I seem to have a mindless patriotism to this state
as if I must salute its flag
and devote myself to it,
volunteer for service.

Dare I rebel against the state?
Dare I become a traitor?
What if I join the rebel forces of action
join the anarchy of activity?

It is all to easy to stay put
where it is warm and comfortable,
to lay back and just watch.
Oh how I love to watch!
I seem to like being a ******.

I don’t believe that.
I still believe there is a spark in me
urging me onward
spurring me to leap into the stream
to grow and learn and become
to either eat the pie
or step out of its sticky sugary mass.

I choose to rebel
against the state of inertia.

It is cold outside
as winter overtakes fall
the room has a chill
but then sipping my coffee
the rich brown liquid takes hold of me
and the fields of a foreign land
gather in my mouth
I hear the shouts and laughter
of the workers harvesting the beans
I poke my finger into the soil
and Earth fills me with gratitude
for its fruits
and its glorious life.

Ah! Nothing like hot coffee in the morning.
I sigh. I smile. Life is good here now.

Last night a man told me the story
of his visit to a mass grave of believers
made by the former KGB in Russia.
As he looked on that scene
his sadness surged into sobs
thinking of the torture and death
suffered by those good people.
But then a flow of joy merged in the moment
as he looked at his Russian hosts
who still carried the faith and fidelity
birthed by the prior generation.

As I listened last night
and now reflect on his story
I am struck by the depth, pathos
and sheer humanity
underneath my friend’s tears.
In that profound moment
the ineffible mixture of sadness and joy
seemed a creature of the spirit -
of an invisible higher realm.

“The moment good taste knows itself, some of its goodness is lost.”
– C.S. Lewis: Surprised by Joy

Socrates said “The unexamined life is not worth living.”
Sartre and his buddies said there is no exit from society
and one must be an authentic self.

I say: self disclosure is a dicey venture
and I comfort myself with an easy excuse
gathered from philosophers and sociologists:
“I cannot be me without sharing who I am.
After all, we ARE social animals.”

But I have discovered
some things -
the most profound moments -
should be left in silence
trusted only to the realms
for sharing them
erodes or erases their power.

Here I am lost on a stormy sea
here you are again with me
my life raft and my light