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author’s note:
Realism.
THE INVISIBLE BRIDGE
A wise one once told me
I’d eventually find a magical world
by walking down this path.
So I set off with great hope, vowing never to give up.
But after many years
filled with many thrilling trials
today, I encountered an obstacle
seemingly insurmountable:
I found myself at the edge of a steep cliff
with a deep dark chasm below.
I could see the path continued
on the far side of the gap—
the trail spiraled up a mountainside.
But how could I possibly cross?
I’d been told
not to deviate, but to stay on this track
and meet its challenges.
Had I been tricked?
Then a low voice unknown to me
echoed up from the depths of the canyon:
“The higher the cost, the greater the gift,”
the voice murmured.
“Try and you will find
a foot bridge before you—
its invisible ropes
and invisible boards
will support your weight.
To reach your magical place
you must cross this magical bridge.”
Though I demanded more information
my words fell into
a silent void.
The epitaphs of those who test reality
often tell us:
“He died a foolish death.”
But after walking this path for so long
I preferred to die like a fool
rather than go back, feeling defeated.
So I stuck out my foot
and searched around with my toes
until I felt something solid—
something like a board—
then I extended my hand
until I touched an unseen rope.
I’m not sure how much time has passed
since I took that first step.
I think now I must be at least halfway across.
But maybe not.
Unfortunately, curdles of fog came in
and hid everything—including the mountain.
Cloud has crept all the way up to my armpits—
maybe it’ll swallow me whole.
How long must this test go on!
I can’t stop my sensible knees from shaking—
they say to me:
Any moment you could slip.
Any moment you could trip.
Any moment you could fall and be lost forever.
But though I can’t make peace with my knees
I can still make peace in my head.
I’ve now decided
to love my decision—
I will, even if I fall—
all the way down
I will praise myself
for being willing to risk everything
on a magical trek of discovery.
How Can I Live In This World?: poetry book
dream steps blog
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© 2026, Michael R. Patton
author’s note:
I am not the man in this poem.
But we share one thing in common: we both believe in animism.
FABLE OF THE MAN WHO FOUND THE MYSTERY
As a child he owned
a toy car and a ball of string
and not much else.
So by the time he became an adult
he felt he needed
many many things.
And so he worked hard
and felt pretty pleased
when he got all the stuff he wanted.
And yet
all that stuff didn’t seem to be enough.
He began to wonder
if he should now do
as others have sometimes done
after filling their lives with stuff:
seek enlightenment.
“Should I chuck all that stuff
and go on a spiritual quest?”
he asked a hip woman
with wise lines across her face.
She told him:
sit still and go on a journey within—
go deep within
until you feel the mystery
then rise up and go back out
and feel that same mystery all around you.
That unseen unknown ingredient
pervades everything—
everything—
even the air we breathe.
Our hero then did as told
and soon discovered the ineffable mystery
within and without—
a truth he now experiences
every day
because every day
he goes within
then goes back out
sensing the mystery again.
He now feels he’s found
what was missing before.
And the stuff he’s got
no longer seems so empty:
because he now feels the mystery
in all that stuff. In fact
he feels the mystery
in all the stuff of this world.
And so he now believes
all that stuff has spirit
including the stuff of trees
and mountains and fields and streams—
including the stuff called animals
and among the animals
the stuff called human beings.
Following this belief
the rich guy has now become a rich man.
How Can I Live In This World?: poetry book
dream steps blog
myth steps blog
you tube channel
© 2026, Michael R. Patton
author’s note:
Does a comet realize it’s bright?
THE GRAND TEMPLE
Years ago, I visited a temple
prompted by my cat-like curiosity
and the light I found inside dazzled me.
Nonetheless, I did not stay—
I wanted to see what
the next temple might bring.
And to my delight
in the next I also found
the light of many jewels—
the same light just arrayed differently.
But no, I did not stay—
I wanted to know
if I could find more.
I traveled that path for a year—
finding jewels of light in so many temples
and some of what I found
stayed with me
after I moved on.
And so, I gradually grew brighter.
Then one day an old monk
told me of a temple
grander than all the others.
“Where?” I begged to know.
Despite all the light I’d found
I felt a driving need to find more.
“I can not show you,”
the monk replied.
“But if you keep going
you’ll eventually discover
the temple I speak of.”
So of course, I kept going.
But as the days added up to months
and I did not find what I hoped to find
I despaired
of ever finding what I sought.
And so
though I stayed on the road
I felt lost
until the night I stopped
at the small adobe home
of a quiet peasant woman.
When I asked her if she knew
of the grand temple of my search
she did not speak
but led me to the backroom
then blew out the candle.
In the sudden darkness
I found myself surrounded
by a dazzle of diamond light—
so many facets flashing illumination—
moving, swirling around me
like a school of incandescent fish
in water deep black.
Quickly dizzy
from the unexpected spectacle
I nearly swooned.
“Where did you find all this light?”
I whispered with my heart in my throat.
“I went to the temple within,”
she said.
“Every day, every night
I go to the temple within.”
After that evening, I ended my search
and returned home
carrying with me all the jewels
I’d gathered on my harvest trek—
including the fishes gifted to me
by that gifted woman.
All this brilliance helps guide my way
as I try to bring forth
those diamonds of light
hidden in the shadows of that backroom.
33 1/3 New Fables & Myths
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© 2025, Michael R. Patton
author’s note:
In memory of my father. I hope he’s now hearing his better bell.
THE BETTER BELL
When I saw
that long red-gold braid of hair
dangling down the tower wall
I imagined a lovely lass
at the other end above.
But when I shouted up at her
she did not respond.
So I decided to climb
a few feet up
and give that tail of hair
a little tug—
maybe she’d wake up.
But oh, what a chore—
trying to hook my fingertips
and toes
into the spaces between the stones.
Then
when I finally came within reach of it
the tail jumped up a bit
and so I missed
and nearly slipped and fell.
Though my better sense then said “no”
I hoisted myself a few feet more.
But as soon as I got within reach again
again the rope jumped.
Continuing in this way
I struggled up the tower wall—
whenever I came close to the braid
it again mocked my wish
and shot up a few more notches.
Apparently the damsel meant to tantalize me—
she’d make me earn her love.
Halfway up
I knew I should stop
but now
I wanted what I wanted
simply because I’d failed to get it.
I’d been told as a child:
success is always within reach
as long as you keep trying.
And now I didn’t want to unbelieve
a belief I’d always found so encouraging.
So even though my hands began
to ache and bleed
I kept following that cord
until it slipped over the gray stone ledge
to the other side of the wall.
Then with relief
I hoisted my tired body
over to the other side
and landed a patio of slab rock.
In the center I saw
a massive bell
set in a heavy wooden frame.
Red sunset sunlight shimmered
across the golden brass.
But where was my ravishing beauty?
At first, I felt so disappointed
when I did not find her
at the end of the braid—
apparently, my heroic efforts
would go unrewarded.
But at least when I reached
the rope now waited for me
and when I pulled it tight
the pulley turned
and that big bell awoke—
a power sound boomed out—
the vibration tremored my body.
And when I let the rope go slack
again the heavy clapper landed on thick metal.
Again my frame rang.
Again
great waves of sound
spread over—all over—
the broad countryside below
to bustle the red-gold trees on the hills
and rustle sun-tipped wheat
on fields ready for harvest
while riffling the straw
on humble thatch-roof cottages.
To any frustrated wall-climber
who’s read this far
I offer this moral to my story
hoping I may ease their pain
with a higher truth:
though we pursue a foolish dream
and fail in our pursuit…
through our courageous efforts
we may pull ourselves up
and eventually arrive at a bell much better
than the one we thought we wanted
when we first started to climb.
33 1/3 New Fables & Myths
dream steps blog
myth steps blog
you tube channel
© 2024, Michael R. Patton
Michael Patton
sky rope (subterranean rappel) 