Tuesday, January 11, 2011

Fifth December Selection

In middle age and in a wild wood wandering—

Where are the beasts fantastical and ghostly guides

To shepherd me through cosmic realms toward perfect Love?

No angel messengers have (yet) conversed with me,

Nor have I swooned in St. Therese-like ecstasy

While visionary darts are plunged into my heart.

And perfect Love—what is it? Crystalline?

A mountaintop lost in a high Platonic haze?

And where—in El Dorado? Fair Atlantis lost?

Or is it doing? being? Love’s only in the loving

And not some pilgrim’s idol, gilt and candle-girt.

So holding out my hand, I touch the whole world’s needs,

Such rare and brilliant flowers paired with rankest weeds!

I slowly feel along the Braille-bark boles of trees;

In shafts of sunlight, watch a leaf twirl in the breeze.

- - Patrick Mizelle

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