EVOLUTION’S BLUNTED ARROW

      Though evolution’s arrow points through us
      To a species more evolved, less dangerous,
      We’ve proved to be a perilous stumbling block,
      To any wiser being a laughing stock,
      Who are, if we can find no way to mend,
      Most likely to result in a dead end.

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FLOURISHING

        Good orderly direction is God’s way
        For human beings to honor and obey
        The calling of our heavenly vocation:
        To rise into that beatific station
        For which we’re born, our holy destiny,
        By realizing all we’re called to be.

        We each have talents we must exercise,
        For buried in our being deeply lies
        A soulseed that with tending comes to flower,
        Giving the world its beauty and its power.

        Ignoring it or failing to respect
        One’s native gifts will cause this dire effect:
        The withering of what has failed to flourish
        That rightly love and charity should nourish.

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LUCKY DUCK

          A frog is an amphibian because
          It lives on both the water and the land,
          But better yet is what a tribian does
          Who occupies the sky, the pond, the sand.

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SIT STILL

      What could be more imperative to know
      Than if you have a mission in this world,
      Some latent destiny as yet unfurled,
      Fulfilling which is how you’re meant to grow?

      If this be so, then how are you to hear
      That calling which innately summons you
      Or recognize what goals you should pursue
      Or find the roads along which you must steer?

      The certain way’s to find your inner guide,
      A source of wisdom deep within your heart
      With whose assistance you may surely chart
      The ways and means by which you must abide.

         Therefore, sit still and calmly meditate,
         And in due time you’ll realize your fate.

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SPIRIT GUIDE

All right, let’s just assume that I’m allied
With some benevolent, wise Spirit Guide
On whom I might depend for sound advice
If I could only learn how to entice
It to appear or by some means reveal
Its wisdom in a way that I could feel—
By subtle signs or in a prescient dream
Where distant visionary prospects gleam.
The closest thing to evidence I know
That such a supposition may be so
 Is watching how my pen and mind can find
 The words with which this poem is designed.
    There’s something supernatural guides my hand,
    Presenting what no conscious thought had planned.

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NIGHT WRITER

           Before the break of dawn he rose
           To sit, consider and compose,
           While line by line his poem grows,
           And soon he’s in the very throes
           Of inspiration, as thought flows—

           His hand keeps moving, his brain glows,
           He says more than he knew he knows,
           Till finally the torrent slows,
           Letting his mind and poem close
           Just as at dawn the old cock crows.

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ONE MIND REDUX

    Though science is the rigorous way to find
    How things throughout the cosmos are designed,
    There’s more to know profoundly with your mind,
    To which mere observation remains blind,
    For every mind is mystically entwined
    With every other, being all one kind.

    Although this theory has been much maligned,
    It’s what our greatest sages have opined.

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