The Wisdom of Art

THE WISDOM OF ART

The rain

Is steady

As I let

The dog in.

Playing with her

I activate

Tender hemispheres –

Just unwinding

In the nothingness

Of being –

The Divine

Reaches down

Like a hand

And lost,

Or perhaps found

In peaceful

Afternoon

I seem

To reach

Through

Earth’s atmosphere –

Catching

A glimpse

Of the expanding

Universe

In my mind

So I am torn –

Should I slip

Inward

Touching soul

Or should I

Be content

With materialism –

What side

Am I on?

Seeking,

At least,

Artistic balance,

I write words

Guided by Spirit

The way

The moon

Creates tides

And I find

That everything

Is mingled

Though living

Without inward

Searching

Is like

Perpetual sleep

So I feel

The tension

Like a worn rope

But with mindfulness

It is mere

Puppy scratches,

Healed by

This inward

Lightness.

Human beings

Are in perpetual

Conflict

Appearing as

Animated

Cave drawings

But as

Thought reaches

Nonthought –

Producing dusk,

Waiting to be

Reborn,

I find

In my words

Radiant hints.

Life

Without

Universal Love

Is like

Being stuck

On a stone

But as my

Pen glides

Like an enzyme

Of God

I slow

My consciousness

And find

That the cosmos

Lovingly

Grasps my hand.