You are currently browsing the tag archive for the ‘afterlife’ tag.

gold dust leaf full br b words - August 15, 2016sc

author’s note:

…and the street of the city was pure gold…
                  — Revelation 21:21
 

GOLD DUST

Though I glimpsed
fragile frost sparkling
amid the fur of that green moss
I rejected the urge
to stop and explore
with my hungry fingertips.

Later, while under
the bare branches of the trees
I sensed a mystery in the wind
but at such a fast pace, I mostly missed
the multi-layered voice
of the long brown grass.

Then, at the end of this rush
I poured water down my gullet
until my belly felt pleasantly plump
but because I forgot to focus
I lost the bright flavor of the ice.

So much gold I’ve diminished to dust.

Nonetheless
sometimes I’ll allow something
to break through my somnolence—

for instance:

the time when
the bird perched vertically
on that tall weed stem—

I felt such admiration
for the way it held on
with those small taunt claws

then I was dazzled again
as the wren vanished
in a flash of flutter and feather
drawing my child-mind to the sky
where I beheld
a low cloud sliding swiftly by:

in that blessed instant
my dormant neurons suddenly blazed up
with unspeakable white intensity

but soon
(like the earth-bound soul I am)
I followed the natural inclination
to lower my eyes back down to this world—
a world now beaming
with so many varieties of gold:

the gold I usually ignore

but even then, it’s not lost:
whether I’m aware or not
I’m taking in all this treasure
with every living moment.

I believe after death
we’re finally able to realize
the riches we’ve accumulated
through our human existence.

But until then I can at least
force myself to occasionally brake
to see and feel and hear and taste
and in that way, remind myself:

in this dusty life
I walk on streets of gold.
 


© 2016, Michael R. Patton
myth steps: a blog

Advertisements

fog of war - August 8, 2016s

author’s note:

“What if this is as good as it gets?”
        — from the movie As Good as It Gets
 

HOW AUNT MAGGIE GOT SO BRIGHT

I have a theory
about why Aunt Maggie
(in life, the grumbling one)
seemed so deeply peaceful
when you saw her late that night:

when we are released
from life’s foggy grip
we can grab hold
of what held us
and finally fully see
that blind life—
examine it at arm’s length
so to speak.

With that perspective
I think our aunt might arrive
at the question
I sometimes ask myself
when I’m able to stop
long enough
to look back
with some degree of clarity:

why why why
did I shrink myself
down so small?—
why did I grumble
whenever the cookie crumbled?—

after all, I knew quite well
that every day in some way
the cookie would crumble.

I believe that question
would lead dear Maggie
to an understanding
she’d avoided while living:

she would see the true pain behind
all her grousing and grumbling
and in seeing
feel a piercing empathy
for the person she once was—

an empathy she’d then naturally extend
to anyone voicing small complaint—
she would now see how
they fear to touch
the real wound…

yes, that would explain
the tenderness she emanated
when you saw her in the dark—

that would explain
why Aunt Maggie shines
so much brighter
than she did during the labor
of her sweet and sour life.
 


© 2016, Michael R. Patton
Butterfly Soul: a poetry book

globe electrons 293w - April 17, 2016s

author’s note:

I believe we’re all scientists.  From the beginning, we’re all experimenting.
 

SPINNING

Science tells us
nothing is ever completely at rest—

even when my body becomes a carcass
its trillions of vibrant electrons will still spin

but what about what animated that carcass?—
will the “me” that made this poem continue?

To answer that question
I’m free to go beyond science
and believe whatever I please

yet I base my belief, in part
on acute meditative observation:

even as my limbs
slowly lose momentum
something within gains strength—

an inner spinning force
keeps on rising—refining its pitch.

No—I can’t accept waste:
after death
the am that I am
will still be spinning.
somewhere
in some form
I’ll be spinning.

Some will surely say
I hold to this belief
in a futile attempt
to alleviate my fear

but even if that’s true
this concept can still lift me
to a place of starry wonder:

we are perpetual motion
—spinning tops—
that continue to rise
after this human life stops.

Though stars collapse
and planets disintegrate
this Universe and its beings
will keep on spinning…

constantly building, I believe
into something greater
than what we have been…
 

© 2016, Michael R. Patton
myth steps: the blog

we'll meet again - April 23, 2014s

author’s note:

Now slides the silent meteor on, and leaves
A shining furrow, as thy thoughts in me.
            — Tennyson
 

WITH ME

I walked with her
though she ascended
a hill many miles
away from mine

so she remained
a silhouette in profile…

until in the flare
of a golden red sunset
her image abruptly flashed up
and I witnessed her true glory…

that stunning vision
always present in my memory
keeps her with me—

now in the night, that light
walks with me still.

© 2014, Michael R. Patton
searching for the new mythology

find COMMON COURAGE on amazon

Enter your email address to subscribe to this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Join 614 other followers

Archives