Sometimes we let our assumptions ruin our own moments. |
Exasper I float, calmly — in a secluded scene, of glorious trees and sandy banks; and blue water . . . sighing and looking up, at the clear blue sky, free of all obstructions, in the middle of the River, hearing the chirping birds, hearing my heart deem: "how nice" — Me — floating there, centered there, caressed by the proud rays of the sun, finally free, of the worry in me! When then, I perceived, on the outside of me . . . another boat floating there, all alone, drifting downstream from me. Downstream . . . "How nice," I breathe again, feeling serene enough to share my serenity with another, and I return my Self to the sky, where I perceive a lonely cloud. But the other boat seems to be coming right at me, and I sit up— "It's coming right at me," repeats my mind, So I toss out a "hey" . . . . . . but I am not respected with a reply— "Damn," says the mind, and throws another— "Hey!" With still no reply, my mind stiffens, then hurls an "ahoy!" Soon I am on my feet, balancing myself with an old unused wooden oar, yelling, and shaking my fist. "What a jerk!" Yet the boat keeps coming, silently at me, coming at me until it crashes right into me— And as my anger ducks away, back into the creepy corner of my old wooden boat, I notice the other boat is empty, holding nothing but a taunt rope, apparently connected, down through the clear blue water, to an anchor. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- This poem is from "Bottle in the River" about a Poet's journey down a river, chasing a bottle tossed by the fingertips of "that I am." ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Written within the parameters of the theory of "Multivalence" |