My Irrefutable Analogy

author’s note:

I use that last line on myself all the time.


MY IRREFUTABLE ANALOGY

Recently, a friend complained
his little life seemed so pale.

So I told him
what I sometimes tell myself
when I’m feeling
bland and inconsequential:

“Inside this tent lives a circus.

“In the center ring
  I stand as a lion tamer
  marshalling
  roaring forces within.

“At the same time
  I swing back and forth
  —back and forth—
  while hanging upside down.

“And though this motion blurs my vision
  through strength of mind I manage
  to transform what I see into solid pictures.

“What’s more—
  I walk a tightrope thin as barb wire.
  And before you accuse me of hyperbole
  remember how often I’ve fallen.

“Yes, a net has always caught me in the past
  but what about the future?
  What about the next step?

“Stressful, yes, nonetheless
  this painted smile stays on my face.

“I tell you I am a circus!

“And when you consider
  all your inner activities
  I think you’ll agree:
  you are a circus as well.”

I could see
my irrefutable analogy
had awakened my friend
to the amazing life within his life.

But in that moment
he also became acutely aware
of the precariousness
of his existence.

So to embolden him
I then said:

“Think of all the people
  who live each day knowing full well
  a sudden slip
  could mean death
  yet they still step forth.

“If they can, we can, can’t we?”

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

Occasionally I Become an Island

author’s note:

So did I actually endure such a night?

Yes—many times in my life.  In many different places.


OCCASIONALLY I BECOME AN ISLAND

I’d heard
at low tide a narrow land bridge
would appear above the waves.

You could then walk
from the shoreline
to that little island of rock—
that ragged gray pyramid
bare beneath the open sky.

However, you could only stay an hour
—two at the most—
before the waters covered the bridge again.

But alone in the purity of that fresh world
I felt my spirit elevate
and so I decided to ignore the time
and continued stepping from stone to stone
until I’d reached the plateau on top.

By then, the waves had swallowed
the narrow passage below.

But I merely laughed and danced like a goat.
Ecstatic as I watched the sun descend.

Later, as I hunkered and shivered
under the cold stars of evening
I blessed my tuna sandwich for its sacrifice
and thanked the scrawny trees
for slaking my thirst
with the dew they gathered on their small leaves.

I also said “thanks”
to the dark gray islands of cloud sliding above.
Yes, I thanked them
because they told me again and again and again:
remember your higher aspiration.

At the same time, I thanked the waves
for telling me again and again and again:
this life is deeper than you can imagine.
Yes, I thanked them
because I then tried to imagine.

In that way, I expanded
until morning came
and the bay lowered again.

Since then
I’ve endured more teeth-chattering nights
on that pyramid of rock.
I’ve even created my own little alcove
near the summit.

And when friends ask
Are you trying to punish yourself?
I answer:
I don’t go there
for enjoyment—
I go there for joy.

What I Learned While Alone: poetry book
dream steps blog
myth steps blog
you tube channel
© 2025, Michael R. Patton

They Gather Again Beneath the Tree

author’s note:

Should I be protesting?

This poem is a protest.


THEY GATHER AGAIN BENEATH THE TREE

For many years
people gathered around
the ancient tree in the center of the town
at the end of every day
because
according to legend
the big tree would soon die
without that show of appreciation.

However, they performed no special ritual during that hour—
the townsfolk merely sat on benches
and conversed about their day—

using only gentle words of acceptance—
they believed they’d hurt the tree
by griping or growling or groaning.

But then after all the elders died
those who rose to take the yoke
did not want to waste their time
continuing some silly superstition.

Just look that tree!
they’d laugh.
Still strong—
though those old fogies are gone.

Yes, the legend was wrong—
the tree didn’t get strength from people—
people got strength from the tree.

Anyone who sat for a brief while
beneath its broad wings
received without knowing
an invisible mist of energy:
an infusion fortifying spirit and blood.
A gift of love.

A blessing lost
when people abandoned the tree
a blessing needed

as change began to spin
the whole town around
and dust devils dimmed
feeling and thought.

Even the simplest activity
became a struggle in that chaos.

Finally, some began to realize
they must stop amid the madness
and rest
and try to clear their heads.

And what better place
than beneath the ancient tree
in the center of town
and what better time
than at the end of each day.

But unlike those who’d come before
they did not soften their speech—no
that great tree now heard
a lot of griping
and growling
and groaning.

But the tree accepted the cacophony
with the wisdom of empathy
and continued to ease people’s wounds
with its secret blessing of love

just as it had in the past
when the townsfolk had tried to hide their pain
under gentle speech
while resting beneath
those strong broad wings.

Myth Steps: 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