This poem has always tickled me, with its Springy integration of baseball imagery
and the realm of higher consciousness. When rhyming verse appears on my doorstep,
it nearly always is a harbinger of a reconstituting reality.
These words first visited me (and this site) in late 2009.
It’s the passion, the glory, that design the form
The ardor unchained that subdues the storm,
The plan is nothing without those who create
Who resist the temptation to arrive too late
Who time after time return to the start
Forging art as their lives and life as their art
The mind is the chock – – it will not be the lever
It deadens the heart while trumpeting, “Never!”
It’s the heavy grey shroud that swaddles desire
The thunderous torrent that dampens the fire ~
Quell your overzealous intellect, its rampant domination,
Set the table for head and heart to dine on besotted integration
It’s not your childhood dysfunction, that old, tired news
It’s the dance of living delight, the song of the muse
Every pain that comes up offers its own box of matches
The immaculate keys that unlock inner padlocks and latches,
Your resistance is futile, surrender the way
It’s your best, highest promise for a truly new day
Does not the search for sweetness fuel every bee’s bumble?
It’s all about the catch – – not a bit about the fumble
It’s the crumbling edifice you erected in deepest slumber
Your awakening to a storehouse of riches beyond number~
It’s a choice to self-flagellate every step of the race
Another yet to choose instead to walk, head high, with grace
It’s not about what hasn’t happened; it’s about what’s now in bloom
It’s not that anything you did was wrong – – just that you were right too soon!
This now is what it is; this now is what it’s not ~
How will you honor all you’ve been given…
…and bring forth the blessings of all that you’ve got?