conversations with the eternal
in what scene does dialogue exist?
the moment of birth when you no longer
change your intent. when you stub your toe
beneath the moon. over the bowl of cereal,
breakfast they say. when you sleep. when
you ask for toast. inside a perfect kiss,
perchance not even lips to lips. maybe
with a glance. the sacred. the mundane.
think yourself one grain of shoreward sand,
one solitary moment purely understood.
like truth laying side by side. so it sounds
like this, truth truth truth truth truth. neither
does tide invoke the merest change, even
while the world lifts itself to the moon.
close listening, as they say.
likewise neither do we walk or rest or
leap or hesitate or sleep or feast alone.
likewise the first voice we call out dusk
and dawn, I am here, I am here, I am here.
there’s the why of listening. and respond.
nothing against the romance of mystery,
but. would the eternal honestly really
really wish to be unknown unknowable,
only smoke? a quiver minus thread?
follow the line of sight. the answer
sin, it translates better as, not ripe,
not ripe yet. good mirth needs be
applied. so there’s a tree an apple
and a snake. yea, and us. now look
and how do we define everything?
get the joke?
sometimes it’s draped with an orange
cloak, or maybe none, standing bare
on the face of a wave. maybe a placard
beside a passing bus. simple does do.
like they say, miracles disavow candid
conversations with the eternal I have
tasted. why else these ears like corn.
meaning no thing seeming grand, rather
only as real as dandelion self. more
akin to dad asking you to mow the lawn.
neil reid © january 2012
apology? suppose not. however are these words we’re not supposed to say? but. here, done anyway. might say instead, could be better said, but then that’s just another vanity. consequence? you get to say. or not. and it is all still exactly as it is. even when I might mess it up. or not.