possible?
plausible?
planted?
I woke to realize that positive
regard was in my breast for who woke me.
I thought to say "I love you - as I live!",
but knew my love as such that it might be
a curse - so fragile, undeveloped, weak
and almost unsustainable it seems.
The prospects of it growing here seem bleak,
for it would take a god, with all their means..
And yet I have no faith that such exist.
Capricious, pow-er-ful, im-mortal ones,
like humans, with more power to enlist
but less than human insight. Just more runs
on board, the field, because of all the time.
And really, I suspect, an image made
to fit our empty psyche, as we divine
our goal, our hope, for power, as we wade
about in darkness, in a watery world,
without much solid ground under our feet..
So Plato's insight*'s like a flag unfurled,
and I concur, this is our plight, our suite.
Creative Love who "thought up" life and this
quite slippery mythic thing called love by us,
from which all honour, brave'ry that exists
in giving self for others, friendship's fuss,
or mother's/ father's, uncle's/ aunty's care
when such is more or less the kind of thing
that's worth sustaining down here, anywhere,
a glorious thing to have, to wear like bling..
My GOD! You love me! - & your gift to me
is better than the best that I'd hope for,
develop, dream of, long to have, that we
together might do work as BOSS, or Lord
of this whole Earth in heaven's greater vault.
The best and biggest gift to me would be
for you to hang around (it's all your "fault")
to teach us love, thus trained, apprenticed, we
might have a chance to learn to wield The Force,
that made and keeps this Universe intact
and spreading out, and cooling down, because
you wanted to have heirs, who'd choose, and act!
I take it from your mind now, into mine,
(to be mined out with shovel, barrow, pick),
that all the gold that I could ever find,
the music, chance to care, is ever quick-
-ened, made to come alive in inner self
by you, and since you seem to still be here,
I'll say, please help me grow to love. My wealth
is friends ' ships moving as flotilla, near.
* The souls of people, on their way to Earth-life, pass through a room full of lights; each takes a taper - often only a spark - to guide it in the dim country of this world. But some souls, by rare fortune, are detained longer - have time to grasp a handful of tapers, which they weave into a torch. These are the torch-bearers of humanity - its poets, seers and saints, who lead and lift the race out of darkness, toward the light. They are the law-givers and saviors, the light-bringers, way-showers and truth-tellers, and without them, humanity would lose its way in the dark. PLATO
