The Invisible Bridge

author’s note:

Realism.


THE INVISIBLE BRIDGE

A wise one once told me
I’d eventually find a magical world
by walking down this path.

So I set off with great hope, vowing never to give up.

But after many years
filled with many thrilling trials
today, I encountered an obstacle
seemingly insurmountable:

I found myself at the edge of a steep cliff
with a deep dark chasm below.

I could see the path continued
on the far side of the gap—
the trail spiraled up a mountainside.
But how could I possibly cross?
I’d been told
not to deviate, but to stay on this track
and meet its challenges.
Had I been tricked?

Then a low voice unknown to me
echoed up from the depths of the canyon:

“The higher the cost, the greater the gift,”
  the voice murmured.
"Try and you will find
  a foot bridge before you—
  its invisible ropes
  and invisible boards
  will support your weight.
  To reach your magical place
  you must cross this magical bridge.”

Though I demanded more information
my words fell into
a silent void.

The epitaphs of those who test reality
often tell us:
“He died a foolish death.”
But after walking this path for so long
I preferred to die like a fool rather than go back, feeling defeated.

So I stuck out my foot
and searched around with my toes
until I felt something solid—
something like a board—
then I extended my hand
until I touched an unseen rope.

I’m not sure how much time has passed
since I took that first step.
I think now I must be at least halfway across.
But maybe not.
Unfortunately, curdles of fog came in
and hid everything—including the mountain.
Cloud has crept all the way up to my armpits—
maybe it’ll swallow me whole.
How long must this test go on!
I can’t stop my sensible knees from shaking—
they say to me:

Any moment you could slip.
Any moment you could trip.
Any moment you could fall and be lost forever.

But though I can’t make peace with my knees
I can still make peace in my head.
I’ve now decided
to love my decision—
I will, even if I fall—
all the way down
I will praise myself
for being willing to risk everything
on a magical trek of discovery.

How Can I Live In This World?: poetry book
dream steps blog
myth steps blog
you tube channel
© 2026, Michael R. Patton

What I Tell Myself while Dangling in the Dark

author’s note:

Hang in there.


WHAT I TELL MYSELF WHILE DANGLING IN THE DARK

Moonlight whitens a spider
bobbing up, then down
amid the shadow leaves.

The sight elicits a visceral response—
I identify with that daredevil:
we’re both dangling in the dark—
hanging in mid-air.

However
the metaphor isn’t perfect:
the spider knows his own string well
unlike me—
I don’t know what holds me.
So I worry

then worry about the amount I worry:
doubt could pull me down
into a night without moonlight.

So every day I try to lift myself
with these thoughts:

“I am but a puppet
   moved by higher forces.
   And those gods will not let me fall.
   Because I serve them.

“Yes, they keep me suspended in suspense
   but only because I must learn to trust.

“Yes, it’s good for me to be here:
   this instability forces me
   to find the strength needed
   to deal with our uncertainty.”

To be honest
these ideas don’t ease my anxiety much
and yet
I repeat them often
because
the story they tell
gives this precarious life meaning
and without that significance
I might just say:
I have had enough.
I give up.

mythsteps · What I Tell Myself while Dangling in the Dark

Searching for my best beliefs: poetry book
myth steps blog
dream steps blog
you tube channel
© 2024, Michael R. Patton

Blessed Calamity

author’s note:

Amazing that a fraidy cat like me has taken so many chances.


BLESSED CALAMITY

Consider the blessings of calamity:

For years
I dashed here and there
in a rabbit’s hurry
refusing to listen
to the voice saying “stop”.
As a result
I eventually tripped myself up.

But the hard landing woke me
to my blindness—
I realized
I’d raced to escape my anxiety.

Before the fall
I’d imagined myself to be
a lucky soul
protected by an umbrella
held by the gods.
But now I knew the secret:
I’d always feared
the sky might suddenly
fall on my head.

Good to finally see the truth.
But I missed my false courage.
Before, I’d felt too anxious to stop
but now, I felt too anxious to step.

Fortunately last week
another blessed calamity came
to put the spur to me:

a star crashed and burned my backyard black.

Having frozen my legs
I nearly lost my toes in the blaze.
No, we can’t avoid life’s hazards.
Okay okay, I cried, I’ll go forward.

Someone much wiser than I once said:
When the risk of necessary change
seems unbearably scary
consider the risk
of letting your north star fall down in flames.

mythsteps · Blessed Calamity

Common Courage: poetry ebook
dream steps blog
myth steps blog
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© 2024, Michael R. Patton

The Walking Metaphor

author’s note:

Based on an actual event.


THE WALKING METAPHOR

Sometimes a metaphor stuns me.

Like the one I saw this morning:

a woman walking
backwards
on the sidewalk by the park.

Soon
the trees hid her from view
and I recovered enough
to decipher my response:

I can see the past--
I can see I’m on a path
but
I can’t see for certain
where I’m stepping.

With that realization
I remembered
a dream from the night before:
I saw the tracks I’d made
as well as the tracks
I would make
shining on a dirt track.

That dream told me:
you must learn to trust your deep luminous eye.

That woman in the park
steps with confidence
--why?--
because she trusts
her deep luminous eye.

I can see her now
and feel inspired.
However
when someone walks backwards
you naturally worry they’ll fall.

I suppose I could pray
for her safe passage
but wouldn’t that show a lack of faith
in her inner strength--
in her spirit?

But I can still pray--
I will pray a way that honors her:

every day
in my heart I will thank her
for being
a walking metaphor
for all to witness.

mythsteps · The Walking Metaphor

Common Courage: poetry book
myth steps blog
dream steps blog
you tube channel
© 2023, Michael R. Patton

Feeling the Stone

author’s note:

“Turn!  Turn!  Turn!”
        -- Pete Seeger (via Ecclesiastes 3:1-8)


FEELING THE STONE

As a child
when my vexed head began to spin
I was told:

“Don’t worry:
 you’re merely feeling the rotation
 of a giant stone that turns beneath our world.”

I was told:
“Without its strong foundation
 we’d all fall down
 through the dark void of space.”

Desperate for stability
I decided to believe in the stone
but

as an adult I began to doubt
as I witnessed
buildings toppling--crumbling
from mounting forces of stress
as our world speeded up.

To those who still believed
in the power of the stone
I said:
“If that thing truly exists
 it must want to destroy us.”

As I lost my belief
I lost my equilibrium again

and as I felt myself falling
I hunkered down deep
to protect myself from total collapse

but down within I found quiet
and in that stillness, I could feel
a millstone
going round and round.

But though it spun
that big rock provided
a foundation for me
as I built back my strength.
Even so, I told the stone:
“I’d feel a lot more stable
 if you’d just stop turning.”

To that complaint
I swear I heard a silent whisper say:
I’m working to help you all.
Do you really want to remain
so fragile?
Do you really want to stay
so small?

Searching for My Best Beliefs: poetry book
dream steps blog
myth steps blog
you tube channel
© 2023, Michael R. Patton

An Ark Builder Overcomes Reasonable Doubt with Reason

author’s note:

To all the Noahs out there.


AN ARK BUILDER OVERCOMES REASONABLE DOUBT WITH REASON

As a child when I heard
the story of Noah
I firmly decided:
you must obey higher guidance
even if people doubt you.

Ah, but my resolution slipped
when, years later
the voice of wisdom spoke to me
as I tried to quiet my heart
during a time of confusion.

Like the command Noah heard
the message I received
seemed to go against common sense.

Nonetheless, I might have believed--
if the voice had boomed down from the clouds.
But no
the answer rose softly
from a place deep within me

and so
governed by doubt
I went against the guidance

and soon realized
I should’ve heeded that advice.

And oh--
the advice didn’t stop--
because in curiosity, I strained to hear
the next message and the next
and the next.

Though in short time, I learned
I should obey what I heard
I still worried about
rejecting my reasonable doubt--
after all
I didn’t want to lose my reason--
reason is good!

Fortunately, I eventually
I developed a strategy:
when I begin to fret about
some major building instruction
I counter my doubt
with this reasonable argument:

maybe I am
making a grand mistake

but if I act with courage and love
that mistake will be
wonderfully grand.

mythsteps · An Ark Builder Overcomes Reasonable Doubt with Reason

Common Courage: poetry ebook
dream steps blog
myth steps blog
you tube channel
© 2023, Michael R. Patton

What the Dream Told Me about Flying Blindly

author's note:

I subscribe to the theory that a dream won’t tell you what you already know.


WHAT THE DREAM TOLD ME ABOUT FLYING BLINDLY

In the dream, I’m flying
but I feel so weak
because I can’t believe I can fly

and feel so scared:
I’m blinded by cloud--
any moment, I could slam
into the flat slab of a cliff.

Some claim dreams
are just nonsense.
But I know the feeling
in this dream to be true.

Yet I wonder:
why do I need a dream
to tell me to be cautious?--
after all, I already am.

And if the dream means
to convince me
I can do what I don’t believe I can,
it hasn’t.

No, I think
the dream came to say:
despite your fright
you can still enjoy this flight
--what a thrill it is!--
you can use that energy
to lighten the doubt
weighing on your wings.

© 2021, Michael R. Patton
The Truth of the Dream: poetry ebook

The Sea of Hands, or Why I Began to Walk Again

author's note:

The path is under your feet at
All times.
         -- Tao Te Ching, Cloud Hands Edition


THE SEA OF HANDS, or WHY I BEGAN TO WALK AGAIN

As I slowly woke
to the feelings and thoughts
of body and mind
I no longer found
my feet on solid ground
but instead, saw I walked
on a sea of hands:

a calm ocean of palms

uplifted and held flat
with the fingers tightly together--
no empty spaces in that multi-hued mosaic
of blue, red-brown, and green
spreading in all directions
to a cloudy white horizon.

When I asked, “Who’s down there?”
I received no answer
and when I tried to peek
couldn’t see between the seams.

The hands seemed to be alive
the way trees are alive.
And like trees, appeared mysterious.

Each time I stepped
the hand under my heel gave a bit
then provided a little spring
when I lifted the foot back up.

“Well,” I said to myself,
“these hands seem stable enough.”

But what if I took a step--
unknowingly the wrong step--
and the hand
under my heel
gave way--?--

maybe I could jump
onto the next hand
but what if the sudden weight
made that hand sink?--

what if one hand after another sank?

Where would I be then?

I realized these hands
had supported me in the past
but how I could know for certain
what they might do
in future--?--
I only knew
things do indeed sink
and even if most remain buoyant
the sinkage of just one thing
can lead to disaster
and in each life
doesn’t at least one thing sink?

Those thoughts sank my heart.
I now regretted ever having looked
to see where I stood.
Now, each step felt treacherous--
I became afraid
to move
even one toe.

I stopped...dead still.

Then I realized
the hands now beneath my feet
though steady, were no guarantee:
they could sink in a moment
just like any of the others.
No escaping calamity.

Feeling the weakness of defeat
I then closed my eyes

and waited for the worst.

But though I waited
and waited
I went no lower

even when I pressed--
even when I jumped
up and down.

“Okay, this spot seems safe enough,”
 I said to myself.
“But am I just going to stand here
 all day, all night, the rest of my life?”

No--
better to walk on
than be stuck where I was.

I decided:
wherever I put my feet
would be the place they needed to be--
no matter what happened to me
in that place.

Finding strength in my new belief
I began to walk again.

Since then
I’ve continued to step
but I must admit
sometimes I still let
nervous fantasies in my head
trip me up

but though I land hard
the hands never sink
but hold solid.

myth steps blog
dream steps blog
© 2021, Michael R. Patton

When She Looks Down

author’s note:

I use the third-person pronoun in this poem because I’ve never actually considered returning…

But I can understand why someone would.


WHEN SHE LOOKS DOWN

Long ago, she began to pull a plow
up this steep slope
after being told she’d find
a terrace somewhere in the upper reaches.
There, she could plant her crops
close to the sun
and reap great abundance--
she could earn a paradise.

But sometimes on this trek
she stops to rest
and then looks down
at her old life far below
on that gentle level ground--

from a distance
its way seems so much easier.

She then begins to question
her decision--

she’ll think:
maybe I won’t gain a paradise
if I continue to climb
but lose one--
down below I could chat and drink
and feed and sleep
in the pleasant shade of the cliffside--
I could fade to my end quite contentedly.

But if I returned
wouldn’t I always wonder

what I might’ve discovered
above those mountain clouds?

To abandon my work would be
to abandon an aspiration
that has given my life meaning.

All my hard-earned progress lost
in the dizzy whim of a moment!

In regret, I might feel
even weaker than I feel
when I’m climbing.
Even smaller.  Totally insignificant.

At this point in her thought process
she’ll tell herself:
okay, I won’t return today
though I could
and indeed I might--
tomorrow.

Then she’ll stand
and begin to climb again--
having completed yet another round
of a mind game she uses
to move her feet
when she feels so fatigued--
so frustrated
and lower instinct
threatens to triumph
over higher.

Glorious Tedious Transformation: poetry ebook
Myth Steps blog
© 2021, Michael R. Patton

Anchor Stone

author’s note:

“These aren’t just words talking.”
          -- Mary Oliver


ANCHOR STONE

I hesitate to explore my anger

because I know a flood
of grief and doubt awaits
beneath my foggy roil.

But still I dive down

because the fighter within
wants to battle my fear
of drowning and learn
how to swim

and because
this intrepid scholar
desires to discover
what lurks beneath

and also because
my beleaguered self
sometimes finds relief--

if I go deep enough
into those murky waters
sometimes
below all the hubbub
I’ll again touch
the anchor stone:

a wisdom within me
and yet, not from me:

beyond reason
yet, solidly reassuring--
wordlessly whispering
what I’m still too dim to see:

all is as it needs to be.

An idea I’m able to accept
when I resurface
by telling myself:

if this life had been other
than what it was and is
I might never have known
that core anchor stone.

© 2019, Michael R. Patton
Listening to Silence: poetry ebook

Spinning & Turning

author's note:

With regret, I cut these lines from the poem below:

"as any witch who sweeps at night
  would tell you:
  change often goes unnoticed."


SPINNING & TURNING

A year or so ago
I awoke from a dream
of a cock crowing on a rooftop--
silhouetted distinctly
by the pink-gold of a rising sun

which I believed symbolized
the arrival of a glorious new life
after decades of hard labor.

But when the weeks passed
and I continued to spin
without appearing to turn
I began to doubt again--

what more could I do
to shatter whatever invisible barrier
blocked my forward progress?--

perhaps something new
would bring in the new

so I began a slew
of fresh healthy activities:

I chanted along
with a recording of monks

and wrote daily in a dream journal--
analyzing scenes of mirrors and fog.

I surreptitiously laid
a stone walkway
in our city park--
a monument to the many strong people
working in the shadows
for the good of all.

I rearranged my files
then rearranged the rearrangement--

signaling to
the powers that be
(maybe outside, maybe within me)
that I was quite ready
for the disruption
of a new beginning.

But despite all I did
I still seemed to spin
without turning

so I again darkened with doubt

until a dream showed
pink-gold sunrays
erasing the gray
of a skylight above me.

Waking in joy
I then began to crow--
finally I understood:

though the mornings
may seem the same
I am turning my world.

© 2018, Michael R. Patton
searching for my best beliefs: poetry ebook