I didn’t notice autumn coming
but all of a sudden
I find myself walking and cycling
over dancing dry red yellow leaves
among pine and spruce evergreen
or ancient gray rocks shaped by ice
among blue green choppy lakes
in rain or wind
during strangely warm days
or frost laden nights
when through thin cirrus clouds
the square of Pegasus shines
You brother, you teacher,
you brave heart, mind and soul!
Why did you stay when you knew well
they would burn you at the stake?
For speaking out loud,
standing up and showing to the world,
the bottomless depths of your thoughts,
those precious insights
that the centuries proved right.
Those shattering new ideas,
that the dark priests could not hear.
You shook down their house of cards,
you disarmed their castle of power and lies.
Why, my dear friend, did you choose to stay?
Confronting them up for your words,
for the beautiful fruit of your thoughts.
Oh! my brother, you valued truth so much more
than all the prudence in the world.
You die wrapped in rope, your tongue bond
while the empty souls shamelessly looked on.
May we never forget you,
because so little has changed,
with all these new old priests
still bustling around,
your example and pride
will forever be
a beacon of light and insight.
Ode to Giordano Bruno
only outside equilibrium
beyond the foreseeable and certain
can something new and surprising
come into life and existence
(paraphrasing a passage in Malicorne, by Hubert Reeves)
already high in the sky
let your light and warmth
inspire me today
to care and bear fruit
to let pass and forgive
to only act and manifest
out of a deliberate attitude
rooted in deep reflection
and a heart of love
that remains calm,
positive and wise.
It is no secret at this point
that every single tumble on my way
offers opportunities to learn and grow.
But what then about those cracks,
indelibly imprinted upon us
by these experiences in life?
Should we rejoice or mourn?
Speechless and clueless,
contemplating nuggets and fissures,
I catch glimpses of truths and answers,
lingering long on faint fleeting hints,
about living having a price,
and wherever this wonderful life leads
it has anyhow to be lived.
The world being what it is
and me being who I am …
how could I prevent some of those mishaps?
Left without sleep and wishing better days,
lingering over the spilled milk
some days I cannot help but reflect
about what makes a day without blame.
But upon deeper thought I then realize
that such would merely be a passable day
not a worthy goal, perhaps even a lame one,
completely unlike a great day,
one in which I gracefully deflect attacks
tuning my mouth to the wisdom I grew inside,
guarding myself against my own wrath
and practicing that higher living art,
where in spite of noise, greed and lies
I remain aware, joyous and wise,
genuinely faithful to myself
positive, constructive and calm,
amidst a world that has gone severely mad.
No matter how well
I sometimes get along,
I must come to realize
that irrefutable truth
plain before my eyes
that for this world
I am just made not.
And whatever wellness
I may sometimes feel inside,
I know that from the outside
I am that weird and clueless stranger
the odd fish climbing up a tree
oblivious to the “real” world
caring for childish nonsense.
But however weird I may be seen
I am sure that in no way
do I want to resemble them
so clever in gamesmanship
experts in elbowing and backstabbing
spending their time chasing lowly morsels
and bowing for bureaucracy and evil powers.
No, I am changing this world not,
but they will never shortchange me either!
There is just nothing left to be done
I will pretend to fit from today on
until my heavy duties are over
and will then lock my door
placing myself under a joyous Sun
in the vast and silent spaces
of my inner garden.
Not the best poetry. Not the most inspired words. Just tired, feeling restless and overwhelmed. I needed to write it so.