I’m getting the inkling,
with each night’s
first star’s twinkling,
that life’s not so much
one big, long time thinking,

but rather
it’s saying
one great, big, long prayer–
prayed in the risking
to dive into doing
and true what needs truing,
and seek the most, broad, deep
sorrow and joy
that’s out there. . .

Or, maybe,
as I’m suspecting,
that joy and that sorrow
already live
in a place deep inside,
right in here–
out of the sight
of the commonplace seer–

part of the trick,
to get life just right,
is an act
which must be repeatedly tried–
to go
and find treasures
better than the gold
that could come from
the most deft prospecting,
and thus, delve, quite daring,
clear down to my heart and my gut
to discover
the joy, sorrow, and secrets
long already there,
though maybe way deep
in my innermost layer,

and then,
maybe take those
and go out and grab
rake and hose,
to smooth out the lumps
and to smatter
with the life-giving water
that reflection is sure
to bring forth. . .

which, in due course,
scatters broad, brilliant rainbows
into the sight and the spirits
of the other souls here.

This entry was posted in Poetic Musing (Longer Poems), Poetry, Prayer and tagged , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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