The Deciduous Human Being

author’s note:

That time of year thou mayst in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold...
           — Shakespeare, from “Sonnet 73”

To that I say: Wait and I'll be back.


THE DECIDUOUS HUMAN BEING

“Behold!  Behold!  Behold!”
The wise one told me:
“Look
 and you will feel

“the loving sacrifice
 made by that dark bed of dead leaves
 beneath the tree.

“Then look again
 and feel
 the little fist of green life
 struggling to break the shell of that acorn.

“Now look once more
 and feel—feel
 the branches straining upward
 as the tree strives to reach the sun.

“Behold!  Behold!  Behold!”

But when I tried to feel the life of the tree
as instructed
I felt my own life instead:

As I looked at those rotting leaves
I grieved for all sacrifices I’d made.
All those necessary deaths.

And as I examined that acorn
I again sensed the new life within me
struggling in labor to be born.

And when I saw
the top branches sighing for more
I felt my own desire
for a higher heaven.

Yes, the wise one wanted me to feel
the tremendous cycle of life
of those friends we call trees.
But I think she also hoped I’d find
that same life force inside
the deciduous human being I call “me”.

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© 2026, Michael R. Patton

Forest Church

author’s note:

Maybe church attendance isn’t actually falling.


FOREST CHURCH

I stop
and watch the trees reach for the sky

and then as before
feel the higher desire
hidden in the deepest part of my heart.

Knowing that pain again
I vow to work harder to heal the breach.

Did I go to church today?
Yes, of course, most definitely.

How Can I Live In This World?: poetry book
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© 2025, Michael R. Patton

Singing the Words of Little Heavens

author’s note:

“He words me, girls, he words me!”
         -- Shakespeare, from Antony & Cleopatra


SINGING THE WORDS OF LITTLE HEAVENS

I once went to heaven in a dream

then labored to write of the experience
hoping to create an incantation
that would transport
all those trying to rise to the sky.

But I could not find words so divine--
any description seemed at best
a pale imitation of bliss.

Yet I continue
to attempt the impossible
and each time
I again feel what I lost
and as desire reawakens
I reach up

and again suffer
that old frustration and strain.

But I’ll go numb
if I just sit around--
occasionally I need to stretch
and besides

though I never touch
the heaven of my dreams
by trying, I lift myself
(at least a bit)
and while I’m up
I sing the words of little heavens.

mythsteps · Singing the Words of Little Heavens

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© 2023, Michael R. Patton

Gold Dust

author's note:

The world of dew
is a world of dew, and yet
and yet…
       -- Issa (Keene, trans.)

GOLD DUST

Today, I lost so much

for example:

I didn’t stop and allow
my fingertips to explore
the silver frost sparkling
on that mossy stone.

I felt driven to keep moving

and as a result
mostly missed the mysterious
multi-layered voice of the long grass
carried on the wind.

Fortunately
once along the way
the dog in me stopped me still
so I could see that wren perched vertically
on a tall weed stem--

so I could witness
the incredible tenacity
of its small taunt claws.

But after a few seconds
I thought of that nature film
I saw the other evening

and when I looked again
the gold bird had vanished.

Then in the next moment
my body—my spirit
again demanded
the feeling of freedom
movement creates.

So invigorating!
Nonetheless
I need to find a higher drive
that’ll slow my pace
and hold me in one place--
I lost so much today.

And yet
at home tonight
I feel giddy with saturation--fuzzily drunk
on nature’s invisible ambrosia.
I’m a flooded Nile.

Even when I daydream
I take in treasure.

But I realize
I’ll feel even richer
if I become more aware--
if I see what I see
hear what I hear
smell what I smell
and feel what I feel when
I’m right there.

I believe
after we die
we realize the abundance
we unknowingly accumulated
during our human existence.

But why wait?--
I want heaven here on earth.

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© 2022, Michael R. Patton

Too Weak for Heaven

author’s note:

“Language--the ultimate high.”
        -- from the TV series Lodge 49

No, not the ultimate.  But pretty darn good.


TOO WEAK FOR HEAVEN

Some say
in Heaven you can smoke
as many cigarettes as you wish
without any harmful side effects

but why would we crave tobacco

or any other pleasure?--
this ice cream, though velvety
could never match Heaven's relentless love.

No one would hanker for a drug
when filled with the ecstasy
of Heaven above.

But maybe in short time
such perfection overwhelms us--
the flood of light
becomes much too much

and so in desperation, we jump
back down to Earth.

And when we land
we block Heaven from memory
to escape the pain of the loss.

Nonetheless
we sense we’ve fallen off
and so, search for activities
that give us a little lift:

yes, we’ve created
a myriad of substitutes
and not just bad stuff--
much of what we’ve found
is actually quite good for us--
for instance
rising in harmony with an angelic choir
or
finding our way
through the labyrinth of a cave.

Or maybe we sit down
on a mountaintop
hoping to satisfy
that muffled but incessant desire
deep within

and maybe if I wait long enough
I find a light that feeds my hunger.

But soon, I must climb back down
to tend to the demands of this human life.

However...to be honest
sometimes I jump down
because I feel overwhelmed
by the small bit of heaven I’ve found--
even the light available on Earth
can seem too much to bear.

Will I ever be strong enough
to give myself up?
To surrender?

I doubt I will
but I’m still going to work
to find that courage--

as long as I know
I’m pursuing a higher goal
I can smile as I mop
this dingy kitchen floor.

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© 2022, Michael R. Patton

Forget Heaven

author’s note:

“I yam what I yam”
        -- Popeye

Okay, Popeye, but what are you, really?


FORGET HEAVEN

Since science could not tell me
what the true nature of my being is
I chose the belief below
realizing it would serve me well--

an idea in line with this close observation:

even as these limbs
slowly lose momentum
I can feel an inner force
gradually gaining strength:
    rising--
    refining its energy.

Maybe I’m just imagining.
But in any case
I can't accept waste--I can’t accept
that what I’ve gained
through this experience
will be lost after death--
no, the entity I am
will still spin--
somewhere
in some form
I’ll be spinning up.

Some will surely say
I hold to this belief
because I want to ease
my fear of death.

But even if I realized they were right
I would still keep this belief
because it lifts me
to a place of wonder
and acceptance of all:

if I’m a spinning top
so is everyone else--
we all keep on rising
long after this life stops.

Forget heaven.
Heaven would be quitting
and I believe
the desire to be more
is ultimately stronger
than the wish to rest.
So though we may relax
occasionally
on our way up
we never stop climbing.

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© 2022, Michael R. Patton

The Ticket Taker

author's note:

If I was angel, I wouldn't mind working with humans...

But I think I'd need long vacations.


THE TICKET TAKER

One night I dreamt
I was working Gate Eleven
but not as a man but as an angel
because the stadium was now heaven
though still located near the track.

But I didn’t want to let the first man in--
I didn’t like his fanged teeth.

I also rejected the woman behind him--
because of her necklace of skulls.

But then a tall archangel
touched my shoulder and said:
“Since they both have tickets
  you must allow them to enter.”

What--have we no standards?
I protested.

The higher one answered:
“Look into their faces--
  can you see the pain?
  That pain is the cost
  of living on Earth.
  Having paid in that way
  they’ve earned heaven’s bliss

“but only a small amount--
  soon they must return to life on Earth
  along with the rest of the crowd.”

Isn’t anyone ever allowed to stay?
I asked in bewilderment.

“Okay, here’s the process,"
  the patient master replied:

“Next time these beings awaken on Earth
  their minds will again switch
  to survival mode--
  blotting out the memory of heaven
  just as before.
  However
  the humans will sense the loss--
  feel the pain of loss--
  and as a result
  engage in various worldly pursuits
  in an effort to regain
  the feeling of bliss.

“But though they may create
  fine pleasure for themselves
  and experience the satisfaction
  of grand accomplishment
  their striving will not bring back
  the heaven they’ve lost.

“But through the frustration of their search
  they will learn and grow
  and so, eventually learn
  what they truly desire
  and then they will vow
  to work to grow
  until they reach real heaven.”

At that point, I awoke
wondering if my dream
actually proved anything
about an afterlife.
But whatever the case may be
that dream helped me
because afterward
I did my job with new eyes:

I saw the pain
of that snide man with canine teeth.
I saw the pain
of that woman devouring her own life.
And by seeing their pain, I felt
the pain of my own mistakes.
But comforted myself with this thought:
Yes, I might still be a long way
from permanent heaven
but at least now I know
what I truly desire.

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© 2022, Michael R. Patton

The Soul of a Worm

THE SOUL OF A WORM

According to one theory
we all ascend to heaven after death

but soon feel overwhelmed
by the magnificence
and lose consciousness--
we fall asleep then fall
back down to Earth

to live yet another life
in search of heaven lost:

like worms we crawl
up the mountain of our lives--
pulled by a longing for the clouds

and as we climb, we grow
stronger ever stronger

until, after many lifetimes
we’ve built enough strength
to accept the magnificence
of that high spiritual power:

only then can we live
as permanent residents of heaven.

A good belief, I think--
just consider this benefit:

now, everywhere I look
I see fallen angels growing strong
in the climb called “human life”

and in so seeing, I feel blessed
to be here among you--
not just a worm among worms
but a soul among souls.

However, I wonder...
wouldn’t the pure bliss of heaven
eventually become monotonous?

With that in mind
let me suggest this addition to our theory:

once we’ve able to stay in heaven
we don’t stop--no
we merely take a breath, enjoy the view
then began to climb anew--
up another wild twisted path
up another mountain
this one even steeper than the last--
we aim for another heaven--
a heaven even higher--even more magnificent.

In this way
you and I ascend
to heaven after heaven--
no end to the heavens we can attain.

Perhaps some will still prefer
to imagine themselves at final rest
but speaking for myself
I would never want
this kaleidoscopic mountain scene to end--
painful though it is.

© 2020, Michael R. Patton
Poet, Heal Thyself: poetry ebook

A Heaven Beyond Description

author's note:

Butterfly!  These words
from my brush
are not flowers...
only their shadows.
       -- Soseki (trans. Beilenson/Behn)


A HEAVEN BEYOND DESCRIPTION

I'm told
any heaven worthy of the name
would be beyond description

maybe so, but I doubt
I could remain quiet

because in those rare moments
when light floods my being
I'm overwhelmed by the desire
to express a feeling so heavenly

and though I know I can never find
the perfect words
I'm driven to keep searching--
even long afterwards.

Yes, my efforts
always end in frustration
but

sometimes, amid the silence
that follows in the wake of my words...

I arrive back
at the place I seek

for a moment at least:

that heaven.

© 2016, Michael R. Patton
listening to silence: poems of meditation