Becoming
"We must find the music in every sound"
This is a poem about time and being. I posted it a while back and it has come to mind quite a bit lately, so I thought I would share again. My essay on “Four Winds” will be posted next week, and have an interview to share with a very special guest who played a big role on the song. Hope everyone is staying safe out there.
Becoming
Possibility passes And we live in its wake Swallowed by what simply is In all of its glorious monotony We must find the music in every sound The poetry in every word The weight of every fluttering nothing Passing through our lives Or else risk wasting the nectar of the stars The sweetness of existence This fragile little moment Forever blooming and wilting Not a cage to flee, but the shape of all being This narrow window, our point of view Like bouquet paper wrapped around a banyan tree Trying to contain in it something so free Still unfurling, incomplete Each second surrendered to a beckoning elsewhere Must be reclaimed Always bending to a breaking point That will never quite arrive Approaching, but unable to reach Becoming, but never can be A million tomorrows lay quietly behind Too many yesterdays still yet to come Now the cosmos sit, nearly still Like a city appears from a plane window Its shimmer the only sign otherwise Perfect flickers like a sheet whipped straight into a drift Landing without weight into a square A bed where we may be as we are For just a while Until it is time to change Into whatever may come Taking the clumsy shape of what lies beneath Approximately anything at all We could be approximately anything at all