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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’ve learned to enjoy the daily grind.
TRUTHS I TELL MYSELF TO LIGHTEN THE LOAD
If indeed
the path we’re on is the path we need
then apparently, I need
a path that’s hard to see—
apparently, I need
to continually struggle
to find my way—
to search all around
with my back bent down
by a big burden bequeathed to me at birth.
Okay, but why do I need what I need?
Well, after some consideration
I do see these benefits for the soul:
Because I was given a gnarly maze
instead of a clear straight line
I have worked hard to find
the truth hidden deep within the center.
And because I was given
such a shoulder load
I have worked hard to find
the strength hidden deep within me.
Yeah, that stone grinds me down
but as I lose I uncover
the me beneath the surface—
I discover more of who I am.
Good to remind myself of these truths
because when I do the weight seems to ease a bit.
And if I then feel the need
for a little extra lift
I’ll dream this possibility:
someone lost could someday learn
from the lessons I’ll leave in my wake—
they’ll be able to see how
I eventually arrived
at the deep core of my being.
Maybe they’ll get a lift
when they read
how strong I felt then—so strong
my millstone
seemed light as a pebble.
dream steps blog
myth steps blog
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© 2024, Michael R. Patton
author’s note: Based on an actual event. THE WALKING METAPHOR Sometimes a metaphor stuns me. Like the one I saw this morning: a woman walking backwards on the sidewalk by the park. Soon the trees hid her from view and I recovered enough to decipher my response: I can see the past-- I can see I’m on a path but I can’t see for certain where I’m stepping. With that realization I remembered a dream from the night before: I saw the tracks I’d made as well as the tracks I would make shining on a dirt track. That dream told me: you must learn to trust your deep luminous eye. That woman in the park steps with confidence --why?-- because she trusts her deep luminous eye. I can see her now and feel inspired. However when someone walks backwards you naturally worry they’ll fall. I suppose I could pray for her safe passage but wouldn’t that show a lack of faith in her inner strength-- in her spirit? But I can still pray-- I will pray a way that honors her: every day in my heart I will thank her for being a walking metaphor for all to witness.
Common Courage: poetry book
myth steps blog
dream steps blog
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© 2023, Michael R. Patton
author’s note: Wishing you the best on all your big steps in 2023. STEPPING WITH THE BABY The bold blind wandering fool I once was has become a seasoned explorer who can see potential risk and knows men and women of courage do not always win. Even those who’ve checked every box on the list. But this man also realizes if he doesn’t answer the call he will die. And so I lift my foot to take the next step. But even after all these years a baby still clings to my back. Being so immature that tot couldn’t care less about higher necessities-- it only worries about its own well-being-- neither reason nor cooing will stop that child from kicking and crying. So I do not try to negotiate but continue to stretch my stride. And when the raised foot lands back on solid ground-- that child calms down but only for a while: as soon as one scary step has settled firmly another scary step demands to be heard. What a labor, the way we humans live. But at times I can put aside the careful adult and that anxious infant to allow another child-- a child of wonder-- to open my eyes to the incredible life to be found on every step of this path.
Common Courage: poetry book
dream steps blog
myth steps blog
you tube channel
© 2022, Michael R. Patton
Michael Patton
sky rope (subterranean rappel) 