A Paradox of Size

author’s note:

Still shrinking.


A PARADOX OF SIZE

One day I told a wise tree:
“I sense I’m being driven from within
  but I can’t see what
  I am trying to accomplish.”

With a sigh, the tree then said:
“You can’t see because
  your deepest desire is buried so deep.

“Look down deep and you will see:

“That you want to cross over a threshold
  so you live in a mansion open to the sky.
  There, you can rise to your full height
  and squeeze rainwater from the clouds.

“But before you can cross
  you must first shrink yourself down
  because the door is small and low to the ground.”

“You mean, I must become less than I am?” I cried.

“No, you just need to realize
  your actual size.
  Like everyone else
  you’re really quite little.”

“But if that’s so
  how can I possibly reach the sky?”
  I whined.

“Because of a paradox,”
  the tree replied.
“As you deflate, you grow.
  Just like everybody else.

“A slow painful process, yes
  but without humility
  height and weight can be dangerous.
  You’ll be helping the whole world.”

As I left the tree then
I felt so foolish
but at least I’d shrunk a bit more.

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

The Sun-Fire Pool

author’s note:

Did I actually see that sun pool?

Well, no, not literally.  But yeah, I did.


THE SUN-FIRE POOL

Years ago, I woke to see
a whirling circle of sun-fire
emerging from a fog cloud
hovering right above me—

concentric bands
of razzling orange-gold energy.

But with a peaceful pool
in the center—
its aqua-blue surface
deepening down into cobalt blue.

I felt that well draw me in
and shut my eyes in fright

but then in a fright, realized
I might’ve lost my chance
to know a greater mystery.

So I popped my lids back open.

But of course
the fog and fire and pool
had vanished.

I knew then
every morning I’d hope to find
that whirling sun-fire above me
when I opened my eyes.
And likely be disappointed
every morning.

Yes—years have passed
and I haven’t yet received
a second invitation.
But my feeling sense tells me:
the mystery still lurks
on the other side of the curtain.

So I remain tantalized.
No, I have not given up.

But I’m not merely waiting
I’m working—
every day when I rise
I repeat this message to myself:

I will earn the return
by becoming strong enough
to overcome the natural fear
of jumping into the fiery hoop—
the fear
of descending up through
the deep cobalt blue.

mythsteps · THE SUN-FIRE POOL

Listening to Silence: poetry book
dream steps blog
myth steps blog
you tube channel
© 2024, Michael R. Patton

Little Giants

author’s note:

There were giants in the earth in those days…
                  -- Genesis 6:4


LITTLE GIANTS

Yes, there were giants
in the land in those days--

like suns they shone

but small people felt threatened
and swarmed to attack them.

Worried for their survival
the titans then shrank themselves down
to an acceptable height--
they hid their light

and over time, forgot
their true size.

However
they’ve maintained their higher perspective
to this very day.

So they’re wise enough to know
they don’t know everything--
you won’t see them adopting titles
such as "guru" or "master".

But like anyone who stays low
they may occasionally feel low
yet even then, they reject the low impulse
to pump themselves up in public.

I respect that, however
their anonymity needs to end soon.

Consider the lonely streetlamp:

few notice that plain pole
in the glare and rush of the day.
But when twilight
deepens into night
we seek its illumination.

I believe
as our world grows darker
we’ll look for untapped sources of light

then our giants will realize
for the survival of all
they must stand and shine bright

even as swarms
attack from the shadows.

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

Stone Alive

author’s note:

When you don’t have a boulder (see last post), a rock will do.


STONE ALIVE

One day, feeling frustrated
with all the dust of our noise
I sat down on the ground
and lifted a rock
and to amuse myself, said:

“Can you help me, dear stone?
  Old as you are
  you must know something
  about life on this planet.
  Has age made you a sage?

“But no, I suppose
  only mountains and cliffs
  can give us wisdom.”
That plain gray stone
seemed so insignificant, so dumb.

But then as I relaxed
in afternoon idleness
I no longer asked, but merely gazed

and as that stone warmed my palm
I slowly became enchanted:
I no longer perceived the thing as dead
but as an entity
tightly contained within its own self.

I actually sensed an essence--
an intensity radiating
from a power within: a force
so subtle as to seem unreal
and yet as incessant and insistent
as the drone of a Stonehenge megalith.

But my tolerance for amazement
has its limits:
I soon lay the stone back down
then bowed with respect
and ambled on.

Since then, I’ve occasionally paused
long enough to meditate upon a stone
and though I appreciate them as solid friends
that can calm me on uncertain days
I’ve never again felt the same intensity.

However, I don’t doubt their power.  No--
the problem lies with my erratic concentration.
I know:

if such a plain gray stone
holds the energy of life
so do all the other rocks
cascading across this planet.

My goal is:
to eventually arrive at
the splendid open moment
when in a blaze of illumination I realize
the incredible force behind the disguise
of all these earthly things.

you tube channel
© 2021, Michael R. Patton

The Diamond Kite

author’s note:

This hour I tell things in confidence,
I might not tell everybody but I will tell you.
            -- Walt Whitman


THE DIAMOND KITE

Yesterday, when I saw the kite
I saw myself

sleeping in a park clearing
--no tail, no string--
just thin orange paper breathing
in a flimsy wooden frame

until woken abruptly by a gust--
twirled straight up--
up above the maple trees

then held--suspended:
burning golden in the sun
for an operatic moment.

But soon the magic went "poof"
and the kite spiraled down
to land softly on the lawn--

the diamond eagle: a ground bird
once again.

I know how it feels

to be suddenly lifted
by some invisible hand--
held aloft

only to be set down
in the next breath.

A short vacation
yet long enough
for me to know the wonder
of being a diamond kite

and so, ever since
I've wanted that height
as a permanent residence

and have worked to build
string and tail.

But after so many years
and so much effort, I fear
my kite dream may only be
a pipe dream.

Nevertheless...

when I saw that kite aloft
I could not deny my desire
to lift myself up
to my diamond height.

© 2018, Michael R. Patton
what I learned while alone: poetry ebook

The Good Fight

dear reader:

Allow me to repeat myself:

At my death, I hope someone will say: "He fought the good fight."


THE GOOD FIGHT

In the dream, I knelt down

into a circle of light
found on the floor
of a dusty dark tunnel

and in an instant
an upswell of energy
saturated me--a sensation
both buoyant and dense--

my whole being hummed
with the grand expansion

yet at the same time
I felt diminished
by a power so great:
consumed--overwhelmed

I soon woke in fear

and immediately lost the feeling

then cursed my weakness

as I often do
when I give in
to lower instinct
and reject what
my higher instinct desires.

However
I didn't lose completely:

whenever I remember
that underground light
I can sense (just vaguely)
that force of peace
within me--

within me
yet frightfully foreign:

I doubt I could ever
live with that mysterious intensity
for more than
the occasional moment.

But no matter--
a recent dream shows me
determined to return--
fighting

through a dusty storm wind
toward a dim distant light

and though I feel so weak

the exhilaration spurs me on.

© 2018, Michael R. Patton
my war for peace: poetry ebook

Glad to Share My Incredible Nightmare

author’s note:

I'm reminded of the expression, "He's a nice person--when he's asleep."

Whoever coined that phrase has never seen my dreams.


GLAD TO SHARE MY INCREDIBLE NIGHTMARE

What a night!--
hail rained down
all through my dreams
to stick in my throat and boot
the next morning
as I tried to talk and walk
as if not so discombobulated
by a sleep
that was non-sleep.

I believe
the steam of what boils in my heart
finds release in dreams--
sometimes creating something quite sweet:
an angelic pipe-organ melody

but more often
blasting a cacophony:

last night, those tight little fists of ice
whipped down on flat stone
in rattling waves of roar--!

But I must admit
such storms light me up
with their lightning

even though in the morning
I'm left frazzled
in the burnt-crisp aftershock...

a charge and burn absent the next night
when I'm refreshed and eased
by gentle visions gone in a wisp...

leaving me with no better story
than to repeat what happened
night before last.

© 2018, Michael R. Patton
what I learned while alone: poetry ebook