in wild mind, my salvation
Dark follows light, and light follows dark
The dark side is about to become the bright side
for revolution is the way of life
It’s time for the light to surrender supremacy,
to make way for that which hides in shadow
if that frightens you, ask why you fear
half of your own whole self. The bits on the shelf have
waited their turn so long they’ve forgotten
how to even yearn for their heart’s desire to manifest
If this is a test, I would know the penalty for failing
and even more, the reward for success
If I am to invest my desire on the side of survival,
I wish to know that survival means something
Beyond mere continuance of existence.
If I am to persist in this struggle to evolve,
To revolve my whole self, to show
my least comfortable faces for the gaze of
those hidden eyes in the haze, then
I insist upon some surety that my efforts
be not vain and fruitless. You see, I want to root here.
So I ask, but would be frankly flabbergasted
to receive a useful answer. The point of asking is not
to be answered but to explore the question, to feel through
the maze to the best approach to discovering
and possibly uncovering solutions to the issue
that resulted in need to ask.
So I ask, and to you (whoever you are)
I assign the task of not responding,
of allowing me the space and grace it takes
to flounder foolishly in my own confusions until some
magical fusion of fragmented perception
might culminate in the epiphany I seek.
I do admit, I would not enjoy the view from
the seat I expect you to occupy.
I use you, poor reader, shamelessly
toward my own devices
the vision of wholeness which I struggle
with all my brain and heart to serve.
Should this cup of blog be not to your liking,
allow me to mention the obvious, that any time
spent on studying these patterns of photons
randomly-etched in electronic sand must be
by your own command, for you are free
to wander and wonder at your will,
to quest for your own carrots, and to
invest your attention where you please.
Should I seem defensive, please believe
it is not you, dear unknown, against
which I defend, but merely my same-old familiar,
ratchet, snick and click of guilt clacking
against the grain of my burdened, saggy brain,
close to collapse under the weight of old freight
passed from parent to child for the purpose of
trapping and taming the wild within.
Those patterns and pathways were practiced
until I got it right, but always failed to delight
and in fact became root, branch and leaf of my plight
And now, the wild world, night side, feeds my need,
in wild mind I find my salvation