Thursday, June 09, 2016

Meditating Upon a Centipede

author's note:

I dedicate this poem to all those of my generation who hoped the Carlos Castaneda books were true accounts.

So, in part, I dedicate this poem to myself.


Once in a forest, alone
I tried to force my eyes open

driven by an impatient desire
to see the hidden world I sense--

I peered
into the secret darkness of the trees--
I stared--I squinted--
trying to penetrate

until nearly blind with frustration

then, in exhaustion
I sank down
to rest on a stump
by a dry brook...

but in the quiet blank
of this convalescence
I lapsed into
a timeless, effortless

my empty eyes began to fill
with the beauty
of a simply complex centipede
navigating a battlefield
of gray-brown leaves
between my feet--

this focus, so selfless
pillowed mind and heart

until the magical creature
disappeared into the stump

then the desire to see
the hidden
rose once again:

a drive not satisfied
by such soft comfort

so I stood up
to continue the hunt...

© 2016, Michael R. Patton
finding Beauty: the book

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