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author’s note:
At the end of another year, I revisit this poem.
Those aren’t just fancy words below: I can indeed feel the clarity of my soul.
No, not very often. But still...
A CLEAR GLASS OF AIR ON NEW YEAR'S EVE
At the end of another year—
alone
and blank
at my hardwood table
under a bare light bulb.
Devoid of sensation--
I could be dead...
but no--
that clear glass of air on the table
tells me:
you only seem empty--
in reality
you are filled with spirit.
Yes--
prompted by that thought
I suddenly sense the purity within.
I can feel the clarity of my soul.
But this bliss
only lasts for the moment of a breath--
with the next
the mad mix
of muddy past and foggy future
floods my glass again.
Again I am as I usually am:
a human being
of deep flaws and minor foibles.
But refreshed
after feeling the pure spirit again.
By returning to my truth
I return to our truth:
though we seem quite muddled
we’re actually as clear
as that glass of spirit.
Suddenly now
a rumbling jumble of bells
choruses midnight
through the clouds
and in honor of our spirit
I hoist my full glass to the light.
Soultime: a novel
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© 2022, Michael R. Patton
author’s note: Some say we never learn the lessons of history. Well, I don’t know about you, but I’ve learned much from mine. GRAND LIFE Maybe the key ingredient in alchemy is time. Consider: though this moment seems rather leaden it may shine like gold years in retrospect. On the other hand time can also diminish. Consider: an event that once pumped me up may appear quite empty when I look back. But is the revised view always true? Maybe I shouldn’t ponder the past and instead, relax and enjoy every fresh moment as the masters instruct. But I do see each moment as precious-- that’s why I want to know I haven’t wasted so many of those moments gifted to me. What is the truth—the value of what I’ve done with my time? Well, this much I can say for certain: when I stop trying to judge and allow myself to feel--to feel it all-- all of it all at once: the past, the present— even the future what floods me then becomes much too much for me to express. With that in mind, I’ve surmised: we must be living something grand.
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© 2021, Michael R. Patton
Michael Patton
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