On Edge

Content or complacent

The words that whole nations sent

Teetering on edge

Debate of all the hem and hedge

Plunging down cliffside oceans

For fear of others’ heaving shuns.

 

I would not call you pent

But I think that we could name you spent

Rent or wrote on broken arms

Contentment is triumphant harm

Rendered at the end of wrestling gods—

Beyond the scope of mortal nods.

If only for a little while

Those who ever seek to see
will never bring their thoughts to be.

Those who always claim the highest peak
but never give their lives to seek,
will never live beyond the meek.

Those who always strain to hear
but never lend an open ear,
will disappear, unable to persevere.

Those who swim within a sea of dreams
but never bathe within reality’s streams,
will never feel the sunlight’s beams.

Those who will forever wait
and always fear a change of state,
will always bear eternal weight.

Those who always wear a thorny crown,
but never seek to break the frown,
will drown, in their own renown.

And those who always smile, never life beguile,
will be happy, if only for a little while.

* For The Thursday Poets Rally, Week 29.

What is He?

Twinkle, twinkle

In the eye

Revelation of a child’s sigh

Everywhere and all around

Nowhere, nothing, never was

This being of infection

Diseased nation of minds

Infecting and polluting

It is as much to kill as die

The beyond, always something lies

Beyond, and that is the reach

And nothing, they say

Has cured everything

If no one dies and no one thinks

It must be gone, it must be gone

But everywhere the dead and the dying

This being, non-complacent

To met out life, but death—

Child, what is God?

In your eyes and in your smile

A touch, held without duress,

Sweet child, that is all

The God I’ll ever need.