The Poet
Hubris within me to think my small brain
Smarter, more clever than the grand design
Of Creation itself. Systems all wane
Inevitably- erosion of time.
The tech bro, the sharp scientist: both are
Crucial to balance and evolution
Of Mankind. But in folly, many err
Thinking they’re the absolute solution.
Their yin- the lover, the philosopher:
Water to dry earth, to uniform logic,
Long driven by a culture mad with fear,
Grasping for control of the eternal wick.
The poet- knows nothing; a mere vessel
Of cosmic symbols -words and metaphors-
To express the everlasting, to wrestle
With what eludes our linear mental affairs.
A dancer of both worlds, lost in the madness
Where “sane” clashes with abstract eternal,
In its shadow, steps into the abyss,
And oft never returns from the infernal.
Empowered, the poet dances both dark
And light, able to pivot as a bridge
Without fear, trusting in the divine arc
Of the grand design: a sacred marriage.
May the Poet rise.