No Boundaries, 2001
Gayle paints poems in the butterfly breeze. Two boats
Shimmer in the morning sun. Evalyn drops in. . . to clouds forming
On the western bank. Last night a raccoon scurried. One deer,
Off the hill, looked, charged and jumped onto the dunes.
Dan has walked this circle thirty times, reminding materialist
Watchers that creation comes, shovel in hand, not from
Piling up, but tamping down. Seeds fall out of him,
Drop to the sand, coagulate, dry up and cause a laugh.
Imagine the control it takes to let it drop without the squirt
Of normal urgings. (It takes more control to deny the gifts: to
Match philosophies — divine.) So we march in happy paradise,
Using wits to develop efficiencies that will give our kids
A choice: more freedom means more obligation, but how do
You get that through to Johnny sixpack? Where is Jarrie
Going to sit: among the quintessential consumers, or
Back in a cabin, using little energy, but commanding
Electric friends via concepts and inventions so compelling
That, just like Curried Einstein, the tide runs toward new
Shores? Days go by like blinks, Gayle ponders how
Much longer this slice will go, but she knows her
Evolution is many lives away. Entangled souls expressing
Love’s constant yearning gather on this sunny island as
Wind and water wash it all away. Robert, stick in hand,
Walks back and forth, waiting for the change that starts it all again.
Copyright, Doug Stuber, 2001. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given, and with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.
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