IF TRUTH BE TOLD

                    I don’t know what I think until I see
                    What putting pen to paper brings to me;
                    Just vaguely musing in an idle mood
                    Proves nothing but a fruitless interlude;
                    The way a verse emerges, line by line,
                    Foot after foot, revealing its design
                    Is but a function of exigency
                    That seeking rhyme and meter brings to be—                    
                    Though if well done, a verse like this will seem  
                    The manifest expression of a dream.

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REINCARNATION

                      How comforting to think we’ve many lives,
                      That something of our essence still survives
                      To grow and flourish with experience
                      So over eons we’ll become less dense
                      As Homo sapiens sapiens grows wise.

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ON BEING
 
 The miracle, marvel and wonder of being
Is something about which there’s no disagreeing,
With a Source, we suppose, though no sure way of seeing.

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