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Twenty Twenty

In 2020

A virus there was

Infecting us all so

We stayed behind closed doors.

 

Like all things do

It had a name

How to get it to disappear

We had no clue.

 

About its threat

All the world was warned

And in its wake

Many realizations on us dawned.

 

We weren’t as invincible

As we thought we’d be

If we continued to consume

To mindlessly grow our economy.

 

All our beliefs, our ideologies

Our businesses went bust

All that was once of value

Was now only as good as dust.

 

And because man was hit

With something unfamiliar and new

As  a response to the new danger

Conspiracy theories grew.

 

Nations blamed each other

Memes darted across the internet

We continued to react

To its looming threat.

 

Webinars were held

Wise people spoke

We continued to be concerned

About how not to be broke.

 

Man needs food

Man must work to live

Salvage your souls

Now’s the time to give!

 

There was much gesture

There was much sound

And yet in all this time being

No cure was found.

 

How do we deal

With an enemy we can’t see

In a world of unreality

How can we continue to be?

 

That which comes

Is destined to go

Till it does its dance

One must simply lie low.

 

To deal with impermanence

We must understand that its temporary

And our actions at best

Can only be arbitrary.

 

But man as he is

Is used to being victorious

What’s the point of his life

If he can’t be glorious?

 

So when the virus left

We said it was defeated

Our medicines had worked

Mankind was treated.

 

And once again we continued

To revel in our world of sin

Grateful that we had

Been able to escape from within.

 

 

 
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The Play of Love

I put in place

All that you’ve strewn

All over the floor.

 

I fix the things

That you innocently

Broke, tore or damaged.

 

I shut the door

So that I can work in solitude

But you must enter…

 

I sigh… I wonder…

There must be a design

To daily disturbances and infiltration.

 

Let’s not go by the mere appearances

Of your transgressions

And my consequent upset.

 

It is the play of love

To demand attention and then,

To be fulfilled in giving it.

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Before and After

Before I become the truth

Must I be the lie?

 

Living it day in and day out

With tedious self-consciousness

 

So many facades to keep up

So many consistencies to maintain

 

What if the point of keeping appearances

Is only to exhaust me to the point of death…?

 

…And ‘I’ no longer exist?

Who then, will be?

 

Who will continue?

And what will continue?

 

If ‘I’ die

Who will live?

 

And how will truth live

Without lying?

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What Are You Busy With?

To have something to do

Gives you a sense of worth

It gives you purpose

And continuity and

Therefore, an existence.

 

Time and movement

Are very important

For my sense of self-

And all that ‘I’ embrace…

I must be other than where I am at 5o’clock.

 

New places, new people, new projects

All of these make my life

So meaningful, so interesting, so glamorous.

Photographed memories of my day

Leave me with an entertaining sense of accomplishment.

 

Now’s the time to ask:

Is life the story of one person?

Can life remain imprisoned within a personality?

Without memory and pattern

Who am I? Who are you?

 

What new patterns are you forming?

What new memories are being created?

What new plans are being made?

As life awaits your homecoming

What are you busy with?

 

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Perfection is At Work

Things remain clean

When we persist

With the act of cleaning.

 

The action then,

Is more important

Than the state.

 

A state is indefinite

It can change or disappear

But the action must be consistent.

 

Persistence and perseverance

Are the only ways

To deal with entropy.

 

Action is the essence of life

To live , is to be

In an eternal relationship with perfection.

 

While you persistently act

To keep things in a state of perfection

Allow Perfection to act on you.

 

Life after all,

Is infinitely intelligent

And inherently perfect.

 

Disorder, disruption, chaos

Are surface disturbances…

Look deeper. Perfection is at work.

 

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The New is Being Prepared; Be Prepared for the New

Are these testing times,

Or is this an Act of Providence?

 

We know what our losses are;

Will we be able to see our gains?

 

Or, will all questions

Of loss and gain lose relevance?

 

With the discovery of new values

Will old denominations vanish?

 

Will our houses now become homes;

Will our hearths now warm our hearts?

 

Will social distancing

Re-acquaint us with each other?

 

Will we learn in isolation

What good company is all about?

 

Will we remember over time

This spring that  renewed us all?

 

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Durations

Allow time

To take you on a walk

To give your thoughts

A duration.

 

See yourself

Let go of ideas

And stand free of

Their certainties.

 

Definitions too

Are not permanent

Love has revealed to me

Other meanings.

 

The future

Becomes less important;

Plans and designs get replaced

By responses.

 

Today’s importance

Is self-evident…intrinsic;

Small matters that suggest

Little matters.

 

Say a prayer

Wash your hands and stay in

Apparently, that’s a good way to end

A pandemic.

 

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Today

And what does today say?

…the unfolding of light

….the repetition of rituals

….the memory of yesterday

Moments left behind

Moments arrived at…

All indicate two points in a continuum.

 

Let me pause.

Watch change happen…

Let me see time

Work its artistry

How will things be today?

What will lose its charm for me?

What will I begin to wonder?

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A Man is Not Easily Made

Men of free will

They think they know

But true intelligence

Stands on the fine edge

Between light and shadow.

 

A man is not easily made.

 

To sink in pleasures

To be drunk with excess

Is like standing

In the midst of sobriety

In a vulgar dress.

 

A man is not easily made.

 

His possessions may give him

An air so select

But value is not

A measure of expenditure

It’s the arc of a discerning intellect.

 

A man is not easily made.

 

Has he learnt the art

Of keeping centred his private mind?

Towards his friends

And towards his foes

Is he equally kind?

 

A man is not easily made.

 

For a man to become

He must know how to be

Measured in appearance

But immeasurable

In depth and potentiality.

 

A man is not easily made.

.

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Value is That Which Remains

To make,

To fashion is

To give appearance

To that which had existence

But not a life.

 

To make or fashion

A thing,

Is to simultaneously

Make or fashion

The maker.

 

The made

Is like the born

It will live amongst us

And alter our lives

In some or the other way.

 

The made

And the maker

Are of value

Not for the profits they supply

But for the stories they create.

 

Because when the made

And their makers are gone

All that is left behind

Is the memory

Of how things were.