Without Dissent

It is an ancient metaphor, the mirror.

Self-examination

Self-love

Self-loathing

Accepting the reflection as reality

But it is always backwards and often distorted

Mirrors are imperfect

Reflection representing raw reality

Leaving us to guess

At the gaps

And wonder

At the whispered affirmations

And accusations

Of a malicious mute object

That knows nothing

And sees nothing

And says nothing

Its power

Is in its wordless summarization

Of who and what we are

For we accept its judgment

Without dissent

Looking Up and Out

From first to last

Step by step

Our journey through this life

Keeps us looking up

And looking out

(if we look down

We are looking out

And we know which way is up)

Beseech the sky

Or roll our eyes

We ask and wonder and judge

We see

We don’t see

We anticipate

We get blind-sided

The light and color

Our eyes translate

To beauty, love, peace

Or sorrow, pain, loneliness

Put on a show

Pretend you know

What comes next

Then close your eyes

And sigh.

A Slice of Life

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Every day we wake and wonder

Where we will wind up

and where we will wander

So many paths calling out to be ours

“Come! Follow me!”

“THIS way!"

"Look here!”

“Follow ME!”

Our task

Every day that we live

Is to find the right path,

Be thankful,

And give every moment

To loving each other in truth

Lifting and sharing

Laughing and crying

Helping and feeding

A slice of life

To all who wander

Where we wander

When we wonder

Where we will wind up

When it's all over.

Sky Beyond

Peering up at sky beyond the manmade peaks

Filled with modern cave-dwellers

I lose all sense of time

Time is standing still

And rushing forward

Looking back and leaping on toward,

Dare I say it?,

New horizons.

These mountains of concrete, glass, and steel,

Seen from the echoing valley below

Seem like clockwork detritus

Telling time and being told by time

Epic and yet too soon decrepit

Young, yet already broadcasting their ancient heritage

Beautiful, yet supremely horrific

Take me to the earthborn mountains

Where birds sing and rivers ramble

And the sun shines playfully through the trees.

Time will stand still

And the rush will cease.

Take me there.

Please.

Inputs and Outlets

What are you thinking?

Take a moment.

Consider.

Can you name the inputs that are driving your moods?

What information is getting through the doors of your mind?

Images.

Headlines.

Sound Bites.

Viral whatevers.

Catch phrases.

Truth.

Humor.

Sarcasm.

Malice.

Witty Word-play.

Peace.

Comfort.

Is truth getting lost in the torrents of mad regurgitation?

Do you have reliable protection from incessant, insidious info overload?

Take your input one bite at a time.

Set aside the petty and irrelevant.

Watch the sun rise every morning in silence.

Be.

Theater

Theater.

Entertainment.

Escape.

Fantasy.

Reality.

Hope.

Despair.

Dreams.

Desire.

Joy.

Laughter.

Tears.

Exaltation.

Theater.

Facial Recognition

Who?

Who is that?

I know that face.

I’ve seen that face before.

Who is that?

On the tip of my tongue,

And lodged deeply in my memory,

There is a name that goes with that face.

Who is that?

It is a famous face;

With a famous name;

A household name.

Everybody knows that face.

Everybody knows that name.

Who is that?

Who?