When things slip
and start
to seem quite hard,

and somehow,
it occurs to you
that all hell
could soon break loose,
and, from engine to caboose,
things would just
fall apart,

step back,
and from
that dreary thinking track,
slow down. . .

and let in
one full breath,
then feel
just where and how it goes,
as your mind-body’s
calm just grows,
and belly takes
and lets go

That opens up
that next defended layer
to make it one tad
more aware. . .

Then notice, in your chest,
the sturdy beat
that your living rhythm sets,
which bears
the possibility
of your sustained vitality
in its safe keep,

the breath, the beat,
all go on well
in that same vein,

and let you feel
special pleasure,
alongside angst
and any blessed
warning, teaching pain. . .

You have come far,
and I know,
it has been hard
but still,
if somehow,
between God
and thee,
or if God is balderdash
to you,
make it twixt you
and your community,

failing that,
the folks
or birds or beasts in your vicinity,

or the lucky those
you love
who love you too,
stand with them,
yourself to brace,
plant firm your feet,
and from
that strong ground
of support,
why not try
to sound
the depths more deep?

Since the part of you
that well knows how
to keep it cool
and all together
ain’t your brain,

You may as well
just breathe it,
even if you don’t believe it,
and it can take you to
an even deeper
where dwell
the absolute
and bare essentials,

and then,
you’ll see,
you’ll find
down there
the good place where
you really live,

the fundamental core of you,
the viscera
that evince
all your mighty
strength and truth,
so you can hold out
higher hope
now much more solid,
less ephemeral.

And though
this be not the way
of our Brave New
Twitter world,
it’s going to stand,
be better heard,
over a life of any length.

And it can bring you to
long-wished-for heights,
and keep you better
in the pink,

when you
drop into
your gut
and guttural,

whence you’ll muster up
the wherewithal
to drive and steer,
to smoothly sail,
to fly so high
and wondrous far,
they’ll miss you,
if they blink,

When you begin
to use your nose
your vital breath
naturally in and out
to let,

instead of staying intertwined
while airing sniffling worries,
and whining nasal, droning whines,

you let the center
of your conscious being sink,
as you drain it from
your smart but dizzy,

that’s caught like cat claws
in a tangled snarl of thread
in its automatic,
lofty, crafty autocratic
ways to think.

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

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