on this last morning of winter
a robin’s gentle and purest song
celebrates the rise of a soul
through the misty pockets
towards a sun-warmed majestic blue expanse
busy with crisscrossing jetstreams,
like fireworks, spreading the happy message
that while today one life has ended
tomorrow brings a new beginning
3/20/12
i’m suddenly fascinated by (and thankful for) the persistence of aristocratic forms (architecture, city layouts, parks) in modern America. here’s a small project for you: next time you walk into one of Charles McKim’s buildings (like the Boston Public Library) or Frederick Law Olmstead’s parks (like Central Park) see how it makes you feel. then imagine how that feeling spills out into your actions. then multiply this times the thousands of people who experience the same thing each day. then, for contrast, do the same reflection in rush-hour traffic, in the checkout line at Costco or eating a McCrapburger. if we don’t surround ourselves with uplifting forces - if we don’t build the temple inside of us - we’re three sheets to the wind in this consume-and-compete-till-you-die world in which we live.
things that matter most
you draw from me, i from you
thus we lay the stones
to grasp the sky
feet on the earth
to be decades in
and venture new birth
the higher the highs
the lower the lows
just hide the bottle
as the see-saw throes
to know one cannot grow
without
stepping into the mist
to know one’s foremost sense
is
the voice inside
to know that life is naught
without
affirming the truth
in action
to understand our singular task
is
to abide
