April 16, 2021: Faith and Doubt

 Faith And Doubt

There remains in me a desire to know:
What is right? What is whole?
I know I’m a seed, and I just want to grow,
And make sense of what I feel in my soul!
 
I have no attachments, for nothing is mine,
My aim is to nurture my part of creation;
Seek myself in the meeting of fruit and vine;
Fulfillment from a broken relation!
 
Losing myself, I’ll be finding me,
As I persist in my journey from day to day.
I’ve seen that the only way to be free
Is to follow a wise and disciplined way.
 
So what could I possibly have to hide
As I flow from such feelings and reason?
Well, just that I may wait too long for a ride;
For mutations to find their season.

April 16, 2021: The Scholar by Robert Southey, in Harvard Classics, Vol. 42, page 734.

The Scholar

My days among the Dead are past;
Around me I behold,
Where'er these casual eyes are cast
The mighty minds of old:
My never-failing friends are they,
With whom I converse day by day.

With them I take delight in weal
And seek relief in woe;
And while I understand and feel
How much to them I owe,
My cheeks have often been bedew'd
With tears of thoughtful gratitude.

My thoughts are with the Dead; with them
I live in long-past years,
Their virtues love, their faults condemn,
Partake their hopes and fears,
And from their lessons seek and find
Instruction with an humble mind.

My hopes are with the Dead; anon
My place with them will be,
And I with them shall travel on
Through all Futurity;
Yet having here a name, I trust,
That will not perish in the dust.

April 15, 2021: The Virtuous Life

               The Virtuous Life

 Righteous living is a high ideal;

The harmonious journey on the stony path;

The confrontation with what is real;

The smartening rod; the protecting laugh.

 

Oh, I am ready to leap to the battle call,

But what is difficult is to sustain

My impossible quest when my back’s to the wall,

Or when life becomes crazy, or plain.

 

Sometimes untroubled, the days go past,

And thoughts blow by but remain unspoken.

“Good” takes the form of a sheet of glass:

Hard and clear, and easily broken!

 

Mold it like sand, and it falls apart,

And those never reach it who are trapped in its lines.

Virtue is natural, as the pulse of the heart,

And intentional – from the depth of the mind.

 

Virtue is not a mortuary

For dressing up the dead.

Virtue is not a monastery,

Or just keeping clothed and fed.

 

Virtue is not making sacrifices,

Nor is it the blowing of horns,

But detaching one’s self from all enticements,

And saying “For This I was born!”

 

Virtue takes care and sobriety,

But its lonesomeness isn’t bored.

It’s the cutting edge of society,

And it’s the wounds of that double-edged sword.

 

To virtue belongs a baby’s crying,

And indifference which is never aloof:

But conscious, confident, hopeful, climbing

The mountain of Beauty and Truth.

 

Virtue is an imposition for fools –

For it’s the only real way to be.

It’s facing the truth, no matter how cruel,

With a resolve that can set you free!

April 15, 2021: The Daffodils by William Wordsworth in Harvard Classics (1938), Vol. 41 pg. 639

 The Daffodils

I wander'd lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host of golden daffodils,
Beside the lake, beneath the trees
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretch'd in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced, but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee
A poet could not but be gay
In such a jocund company!
I gazed -- and gazed -- but little thought
What wealth the show to me had bought;

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

April 14, 2021: Dinosaur Victoria

               Dinosaur Victoria

There was a friendly dinosaur
                  That came through a tunnel in time.
                  She was thrashing around under the floor.
                  I didn’t know, really, what was in store.
                  Was she a burglar committing a crime?

 

I knew that a burglar wouldn’t make such a noise,

So I called to her, but she wouldn’t talk.

I had tables and shelves there that could be destroyed.

It was time that my wits must be deployed.

I yelled, “Stop it!” and heard her squawk.

 

I opened the door to look downstairs.

She was sad, and her skin had turned blue.

It had been a long time since she’d smelt the air,

And she had no family with whom she could share

What dinosaurs like to do.

 

I opened up both of the cellar doors,

And she was grateful to wriggle outside,

Even though it was about to storm,

She rolled over the sidewalk, and danced on the lawn

In movements dignified.

 

I think she used to live in a swamp

Because her face and her feet were so mucky.

As the rain poured down and she continued to romp,

Her scales started shining like glowing lamps,

And I could tell she was feeling ducky.

 

For a year or more, she stayed in our yard,

And became the best of my friends.

Though we held each other in high regard,

She yearned for the future, though it might be hard.

I don’t know how her story would end.

 

She’s an adventurer from back in the past,

All alone, but full of good will,

Who showed that more than the fossils can last;

Who offered a hope which I did not ask

That I can find her tunnel still!

 

April 14, 2021: "Two Bears" by Hafiz in "The Gift", page 123

 Two Bears

Once
After a hard day's forage
Two bears sat together in silence
On a beautiful vista
Watching the sun go down
And feeling deeply grateful
For life.

Though, after a while
A thought-provoking conversation began
Which turned to the topic of
Fame.

The one bear said,
"Did you hear about Rustam?
He has become famous
And travels from city to city
In a golden cage;

He performs to hundreds of people
Who laugh and applaud
His carnival
Stunts."

The other bear thought for
A few seconds

Then started
Weeping.

April 13, 2021: Don't Refuse

Don’t Refuse
 
Do you ever feel
  As though people are using you?
    You know, you’re not alone . . .
Do you ever feel sad
  About those that are losing you
    When they look at your wonder and groan?
Do you ever wonder
  What it I that’s confusing you
    When you’ve got your whole life to own?
Why do you feel
  That the world’s just amusing you
    When it’s hard as a rock and you’re chilled to the bone?
 
It’s up to who?
  And when are you through?
    And how do you know what you’ve got to do to be loved?
It’s what is the use?
  I’m a circus recluse
    In the chains of a freak.
    Let me loose!  Let me loose!
In a cold, dark cell, I wait for the noose.
 
Or is it that the toll of the iron bell is to
Break the evil spell,
Drag me from my shell,
Tear me out of a hell of a lot
That I don’t know how to use?
 
When I’m free from the wall
  I’ll led you to choose –
You who thought I had only to lose!
But you’ll know if I find you.
Please don’t refuse to be loved.