Friday, May 9, 2014
It's Always Autumn Somewhere on Earth
The Perceiver in me
is weary of old conversations made of concepts
and brilliant insights that fortify or blame;
Opinions are boring, problems laughable,
kneejerk reactions so unnecessary.
The story does not want to be told again.
It is exhausted and grey,
words will not clump or rise to be animated,
the puppet has died.
These eyes and ears turn in
to the peace that dwells in cells.
A preference exerts itself:
wide-open awareness like vast virgin landscapes,
puppy love, naïve exploration of the small and the ordinary.
The Perceiver ignores the things of the world
to notice the things of the world.
The leaves are yellow and falling from the elm
early this year,
Their falling brings the silence,
reminds me that I crave calm low light.
And I can rest.
I can love.
I can live on love alone
and that's the magic carpet
I shall ride out on.
Copyright by Penney Peirce 20