Slogged through
to finish
a dragging piece
of much too long
unfinished business,

still not quite ready now,
to decompress
and celebrate,
and feel how
on this track
to do
my very best,
+++++though compared
+++++with pure perfection
+++++it certainly is less,
is apt
to let me breathe
in and out
according to
my alternating
+++++my deepest nourishment
+++++++++++++++++++++++++and sweet surrender

I know that this discovery
is no mind bender
lurking furtive in the trees,
and may not get
me into heaven’s gate. . .

But if I persevere
with all the cutting, mustered strength
that I can somehow manage,
in this upward shot of spring
to get,

I just might
get a minute
to revel
in this hint
of the vast Infinite
as seen
on the surface
of one well wiped
and brand-clean slate,

all ready for whatever
I can draw or write
in a magic chalk of white,

or by other means
the stuff of
all my highest, deepest dreams
on that solid black board
to create.

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

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