Fragile and ephemeral.
To those unaware eyes.
Crazy flickering lamps,
trembling in the wind.
But appearances are superficial!
See! on the inside there is a mountain,
and within the mountain a deep lake.
Genuine and unique,
self-reliant and authentic.
Behind the veil of softness,
there is an iron will,
a soul committed to the truth
and a spirit no one can defeat.
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
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.
If anything there is
in this life to be desired
I am sure it is to become
that fully accomplished human
that our inner nature holds.
How could we not be genuine?
How could we become something else?
We are not made to behave as puppets,
bleakly painted paper figurines.
We are soul and flesh uniquely combined,
let’s open that big door and run,
into those vast interior fields
and let the exterior world take notice
that here and now,
in her full integrity,
a whole person stands.
I am not worried when an insane despot is voted to presidency
but I am rather unsettled by the mentality of those who gave him the votes
I am not worried that egoistic Machiavellian types so often get to the top
but I am rather enraged by the culture that engenders and encourages them to do so
I am not worried to pay with my money a few indifferent soulless civil servants
but I rather feel sorry for them for choosing such an empty existence
I am not worried to see so many uncaring people that are blind to injustice
but I am rather dismayed when those who say they care cowardly choose to do nothing
I am not worried about the Earth because I know that life will exist after this humanity
but I am rather already nostalgic for those unborn who will never see Nature in full
I am not worried that I might someday be ridiculed and victimized
because I chose to abide by my values, and live a life full of reason, compassion and joy.
And I am determined to continue doing so.
Knowing the clamor,
the warmth and bliss
of that creative passion
that knows not of exhaustion
or any other needs
although long absent
when at last arrived
I welcomed it back
and made it mine at once
meaning everything now
to write down my thoughts
for what I am worth
for Nature at large
for my fellow humans
for my family
and for me.
Back at work,
back on track,
after yet another
wet eyelids shut
aching red eyes
stunned and paralyzed
by the dimmest lights
weeks and weeks go on
sickness won’t pause
a permanent mist in my eyes
can’t read, can’t write
can’t paint or photograph
for this poet of sorts
conjunctivitis is hell
a trial for the will
a step in my apprenticeship
of old-fashioned stoicism.