My Festive Song and Dance

author’s note:

My dancing feet refuse to learn dance steps.  I think they just want to be free.


MY FESTIVE SONG AND DANCE

I told the wise one:

“The love I feel in my heart
  seems inadequate for the task of life—
  I’ve tried but can not lose
  that quietly persistent sense of lack.”

And in reply the wise one said:

“Yes, you love the rain
  but you hate
  when rainwater floods your lot.
  And yes, you love the sun
  but you hate
  when those fiery rays scorch your crops.”

Aided by her insight I then saw the obvious:

If I saved my love for those parts of life I liked
my love would never fully develop—
I also needed to love the hardships I dreaded.

So I tried to love the times of pain:
I danced when merciless storms came
and sang a song of love
when the sun seemed so uncaring.

But despite my festive efforts
I still could not quite love
the fire and the flood.
However
since I loved to dance and sing
I did feel some love in my heart
during weather that seemed unfair.

But still not enough, not enough.

So I continue to try
to learn to love the deluge that ruins
as well as the sun’s cruel nonchalance.
Not easy work to be sure, but made easier
by my stubborn song and dance of love.

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

The Deep Thrill of Mystery

author’s note:

To all my fellow specks.


THE DEEP THRILL OF MYSTERY

Sometimes as a child
I’d stop
all my buzzing about

and in the sudden quiet
I would sense mystery.

No matter where I was.
Even standing in a shiny white appliance store
I’d feel the world watching me.

So I’d be a little afraid
but also get a little thrill.
So I liked to stop occasionally.

But these days the world seems
to have turned its eyes away from me.
The world seems quite bored with me.
Even the stuff in my own house.
Even my own house.

However I can still summon
the deep hushed thrill of mystery
by using this trick:

I will force myself to stop
buzzing about

then tell all I see in the world around me:

Yes, I may be just a speck
but so are you—
we’re all just specks on a speck.

We’re all just appliances
and neither you nor I can say for certain
where we came from
or where we'll go
once we’re done here.

Those unanswerable questions
will then spark my mind
and I’ll begin to ask myself:

How could something come from nothing?
And what purpose does all the stuff
of the Universe serve?
Does a purpose even exist?

Of course, all my pondering
will lead nowhere
and when I finally give up
I’ll be left with an empty head.
I’ll just stand there
in the quiet stillness of the moment—
overwhelmed
by the mystery of this universe.
What a buzz.  What a thrill.

How Can I Live In This World?: poetry book
dream steps blog
myth steps blog
you tube channel
© 2025, Michael R. Patton

I Have Found A Lot While Lost

author’s note:

Continuing a theme.  Or maybe I’m just repeating myself.


I HAVE FOUND A LOT WHILE LOST

Often in this life
I’ve traveled a long way down a road
without finding what I hoped to find.

And when I’d finally give up
I would feel my efforts had all been for naught.

But later, looking back
I would see:

how I’d found so much
while trying to find
what I then realized
I didn’t really need.

mythsteps · I have found a lot while lost

Searching for my best beliefs: poetry book
dream steps blog
myth steps blog
you tube channel
© 2025, Michael R. Patton

Going Somewhere

author’s note:

Use of the word “nowhere” has spiked in recent years.

I wonder what that says about us.


GOING SOMEWHERE

I’m often disturbed
by how we use the word
“Nowhere”.

Just the other day
I overheard someone say:
The road went nowhere—
the dirt tracks disappeared
as soon as we reached the trees.

How very wrong he was:
any road that leads you to a forest
goes somewhere—goes to a forest.

And even if the road had ended
before reaching the tree line
it would still have gone somewhere
because every place on Earth is a place.

A fact I find encouraging
as I approach a new road:

I know
no matter how it ends
my efforts will definitely lead somewhere

and each step along the way
will take me to
a new place—another place
to be explored.

mythsteps · going somewhere

Myth Steps: poetry book
dream steps blog
myth steps blog
you tube channel
© 2025, Michael R. Patton

Sunset Celebration

author’s note:

Yes, I truly believe there’s a big bank.


SUNSET CELEBRATION

At the end
as our little Earth
sails into the sunset
I hope those left on deck
will hoist their glasses
in celebration of our accomplishment.

After all, to survive that long
we had to rise above
the dictates of our reptilian brain.

A higher degree earned
after millennia of pain.

I reject the thought
all that good work will be lost
as this planet rides the waves into the sun.

No, I say:
such wisdom goes
into a big bank somewhere—
where?  Somewhere.
Souls all over this universe
make deposits.

I won’t be there at our end
but I will be there at my own
and on my death bed
I’ll hoist a glass if I can—
I’ll celebrate what I’ve learned
during my class time on Earth.
I’ll know:

my rough ride on these waves
has been worth the pain
of frequent seasickness
because the gain won’t be lost
but stored for purposes
this tiny mind can’t possibly imagine.

Get the Message: a short guide for understanding dreams
dream steps blog
myth steps blog
you tube channel
© 2023, Michael R. Patton

Your Green Slip

author's note:

"In the Spring, a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love."
              -- Tennyson

And maybe an older man's fancy too.


YOUR GREEN SLIP

The moment
I glimpsed your green slip
I felt myself lift

up
out of that dark underground artery--

hooked by a hunger
I wanted to ignore
but wanted to obey

and obeyed, because
I knew I would return

to explore
as monks long have--
believing
as fools long have:

if we plot enough coordinates
in this confusion of tunnels
we'll eventually realize
the magnificence of a labyrinth

and know just where we are.

But today, I'll obey the hunger
and maybe tomorrow too

because to live with confusion
we must occasionally forget
our confusion
by giving and receiving
in the manner
of kittens and puppies.

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