Which Is Where We Are Now

The fire did burn —
 the branches twisted and snapped,
 popping in extorsion
now all scabby and withered
Enough to bury it
 or fling it out to the river
  to float away
And yet the embers still glow
 and the pulse of the heat
 that once stoked the flames
 still beats
Still prays and dreams
 for its tree to rise again

No man is an island
Flora breathes life into him
Wheat gives him this day his daily bread
Fauna prepares the feast
A myriad of such connections
weave a web
 that elevates his itsy bitsy being 
 and every movement ripples
  in consequence
So thunder rumbles at betrayal
and birds sing in harmony
and a rainbow signifies
 the sun shining after the rain

I gaze into the meandering stream
 and gather the sun in my hand:
it reveals a corona
 of water striders’ sparkling skimming
so vast spread since the big bang,
 everywhere is the center of the universe
Empty-handed, held in God’s hands

Some blessèd mornings
I awake to bliss,
linger in the heavenly cocoon,
and marvel at my luck,
its splendor

Then I bid myself
— stay still —
remembering how
previous awakenings
broke so rare an enchantment

and so I lay,
a happy sacrifice
strewn upon my bed,
altar of contentment

for minutes, hours,
until I let time tumble out of hand
and then, it’s clear as day:
even the infinite bounty of paradise
can be too much…
and I get up

Only when I closed my eyes
did I hear the birds singing

I gazed into the well —
 cloudy perturbations lurked therein
still, I gazed and gazed
 into its very depths
then stood amazed
 to find the blue of heaven
 at its base
and myself there too —
 my head in the clouds

( In my bashfulness,
   I had muted my strings. )
I leave them be —
 Oh, universe, play upon me.

Some souls are polished —
 their lives glinting glamour.

Others take their tumble,
 rolling around in the dirt.

What a treasure to find
 they have always been
 diamonds in the rough.