The Beauty of a Moment

The beauty of a moment,
Is complete because it contains all the contents of our mind,
The good, the bad; the anger we feel for being slighted,
The impatience to be somewhere else .
None of it prevents the sudden heart stop,
As sparrows swarm like bees in the deep blue,
As mist floats between trees in the valley.
It is when we want beauty and not the rest that we lose it,
For that way lies fragmentation of the mind,
Self-made bars,
An illusion we mistake for real and call it –
Our life.

Wild Thing

My heart beats like a wild thing,
What am I afraid of?
Perhaps not knowing is the source of this fear,
Recognition the body has its own rhythms,
Its own unconscious reasons
For making me slave to this fear.
I can doubt all but the existence of doubt,
The future beckons with one hand and threatens with the other –
The price of being human,
Always looking back and projecting forwards,
It is our nature to be unnatural,
To look everywhere for answers that will, at last, solve the problem of death.
But the only solution is to live life,
Rejoice in the flip of the coin that gave us this bounty,
It will not be our forever,
And therein lies the source of this fear –
Losing the gift we have been given for free,
Never when we expect,
Each moment casts a shadow,
Life is never free of death,
The knot with strands of both is inseparable,
Wound too tight this paradox is the heart of this truth,
It cannot be solved only lived,
Cannot be broken up only ingested whole,
Cannot be denied only accepted,
And so this heart beats on too fast,
A wild thing that must run its course
In words and rhyme and breath,
In other words, by living.

Being Human

Through repetition we dull life,
Like knives in hands that no longer care
Where they cut.
Where are our eyes, the joyful minds?
That looked upon the world without judgement,
Before we were stuffed full of other peoples’ knowledge,
Crushed between other peoples’ lines,
Taught to follow a path worn so deep in the landscape of choice,
There seemed no other way to turn…

Now I’ll look for myself,
Decide what’s right from what is wrong,
Take no word but my own.
For regrets only live in the mind that pushes life away,
Following without thinking
The echo of memory –
That mirrored hall, that darkened cave,
Where we push all the pain we imagine is in store –
It’s not.
The pain will not, cannot last.
When we call the bluff of fear,
Say to life – do your worst!
And in that action find nothing but the best:
The living, breathing, transcendent joy
Of being human.

Truly Living Life

It is easy to forget ourselves in possessions, in status.
But he or she who knows they have nothing cannot be distracted,
To them belongs the gift of truly living life.

(C) Copyright Mark B Williams 2014
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