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dear reader:

Again: written to no one in particular.

Perhaps a precognition.  I hope.


All day as she taps
on her keyboard she may seem
so ordinary to so many

but I’ve watched her brush her hair
in the soft lamplight
of a bedroom of shadows

as a moth flutters against the bulb…

© 2018, Michael R. Patton
myth steps blog


author’s note:

Not written in any woman in particular.  Written to all, in general.


When I mention her glow
she insists she only reflects
some distant sun…

but later
in the depth of night
she places her hand
over her heart

and wonders if
that warmth radiating
might be more than merely
mechanical heat
from the pumping of blood—

could it also be
the radiance of spirit?

© 2018, Michael R. Patton
myth steps blog

author’s note:

Folklore, past and present, talks about a vast wealth of life, undiscovered, within Earth.


Years ago, I woke in the wee hours
from a dream of a river rising up from
deep underground:

I could feel the power
of its great patience

as those dark waters
gently, relentlessly eroded
stubborn dense obstructions.

Since that dream
I’ve learned to listen
to the wisdom of the river

but I still struggle to surrender
to the life determined to break free.

© 2018, Michael R. Patton
dream steps blog

author’s note:

An appropriate poem for Valentine’s Day, I think.


Every morning before work
as he sits in his stifling tent
he says her name:

the name of the one once worshiped
at these ancient temple ruins—Her.

With knees lowered
and his head bowed
he feels that name within:

a presence greater
a presence foreign

and yet
there it is:
a part of him.

From the strength of that feeling
he believes he follows a higher calling
and so, every day, he’s able to endure
the dust—
the tedious shifting through dirt
the sweating madness of the desert—

he can even calm the fights
under that merciless sun.

But sometimes at night
while lying on his stiff cot in the dark
after another day of grinding labor
with little gain
that name—the goddess name
may not feel so meaningful

and so, for solace and inspiration
he instead whispers that other name

by contrast, a rather plain name

but like that ancient goddess
the woman of the plain name
also holds a cup to the sun:

no, not a cup of sanctified water—
maybe just a cup of strong coffee
or maybe a cup of stone-cut oats

but aren’t such things also holy?—

this woman, not a goddess
but not wholly unlike one.

© 2018, Michael R. Patton
myth steps blog

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