My friend tossed up some interesting thoughts about life and poetry and God-only-knows what he was talking about . . .
His ruminations inspired me, so I wrote this poem, dedicated to my friend, and the search that we embarked upon many years ago:
Let us ride then, you and I
along this way that you ascribe.
We know that we began–you and I,
and all our brethren on this ride–
as squirmy fertilating squirts
in search of pregnant, ripening, love.
We stumbled into ecstasy, but then we find it hurts;
So we sculpt protective nests, with children from above.
Yeah, we cultivate truth and faith along the way,
weeding out the doubt, the sin, the strife.
Cast your bread–our Ancient of Days doth say
upon the passing waters of this life. . .
It will return to you after many days–
all the faith and hope and love we tossed into that stream;
In spite of trouble, pain, and our wicked ways,
we’ll gather love far greater than the Poet’s dream.