Tuesday, December 22, 2009

20 December 2009


What is our human aim but to aspire,
To rise above our former selves still higher
Until we realize the ultimate
We might attain, above the common rut.

And what is that? What might our souls become
When we’ve at last accrued the wished-for sum
Of wisdom necessary to release
Us from our fretful toils and bring us peace?

It is the bliss of blessed serenity,
The tranquil mind amidst the roiling sea,
The stasis in the center of the storm,
And words that find their true poetic form.

Although we know that center cannot hold,
We’re warm and bright awhile, and then turn cold.