Wednesday, October 02, 2013

The Misery of Pleasurable Mystery

author's note:

Here's another irony: I had such fun while creating the self-portrait above.


Did some spirit visit in the night?--

or did a deep part of me
finally decide to ease my worry?

All I know is:
I awoke one morning
not too long ago
with a vague ache of joy
expanding in my chest:

I sensed then the end
of a term of waiting--

after so much work
so much frustration
now, finally
changes I'd made within
would materialize into
something better
out there.

But as the days passed
and I continued to spin
without seeming to turn
I couldn't fend off old habits of thought:
again I fought against doubt--

yes, my dreams have shown
a brilliant gold-pink morning
with red cock crowing
they refuse to indicate
any calendar date.

Is there a magic spell I can cast
to spring the future into being--?--

in recent days, I've tried different actions--
hoping I might break the situation open,
for instance:

I created a dream journal...and a twirling dance.

I laid stones for a new walkway...

I'm learning a new language.

I rearranged all the files
and then

rearranged the arrangement.

Maybe such motions haven't worked magic
but at least I've learned how to distract myself,

plus, now I have a skylight.

Nonetheless, one wrong move
can disturb such an uneasy truce:

then fear and distrust and hunger
begin to circle again

and accelerate oh-so-fast:

quickly I become dizzy--
too easily exhausted--I fall to the floor...

at rest, for the moment
but not at peace...not by a lot.

Yet in this bottom misery
I awaken to that other feeling--
so subtle, so quiet, and yet so solid:

a knowingness beyond me.

I'll tell you a secret:
despite the trials of my hand-wringing turmoil
I'm pleased to be living with such deep mystery...

© 2013, Michael R. Patton
the above poem is from Open All Night: poems of our dream life

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