Tuesday, August 16, 2016

Gold Dust



author’s note:

...and the street of the city was pure gold...
             -- Revelation 21:21


GOLD DUST

Though I glimpsed
fragile frost sparkling
amid the fur of that green moss
I rejected the urge
to stop and explore
with my hungry fingertips.

Later, while under
the bare branches of the trees
I sensed a mystery in the wind
but at such a fast pace, I mostly missed
the multi-layered voice
of the long brown grass.

Then, at the end of this rush
I poured water down my gullet
until my belly felt pleasantly plump
but because I forgot to focus
I lost the bright flavor of the ice.

So much gold I've diminished to dust.

Nonetheless
sometimes I'll allow something
to break through my somnolence--

for instance:

the time when
the bird perched vertically
on that tall weed stem--

I felt such admiration
for the way it held on
with those small taunt claws

then I was dazzled again
as the wren vanished
in a flash of flutter and feather
drawing my child-mind to the sky
where I beheld
a low cloud sliding swiftly by:

in that blessed instant
my dormant neurons suddenly blazed up
with unspeakable white intensity

but soon
(like the earth-bound soul I am)
I followed the natural inclination
to lower my eyes back down to this world--
a world now beaming
with so many varieties of gold:

the gold I usually ignore

but even then, it's not lost:
whether I'm aware or not
I'm taking in all this treasure
with every living moment.

I believe after death
we're finally able to realize
the riches we've accumulated
through our human existence.

But until then I can at least
force myself to occasionally brake
to see and feel and hear and taste
and in that way, remind myself:

in this dusty life
I walk on streets of gold.



© 2016, Michael R. Patton
myth stemps: the blog

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