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author’s note:

“Buzz!  Buzz!”
     — Shakespeare, The Taming of the Shrew
 

THE BEE WITHIN

Years ago
when I felt so dead
I sat myself down
and listened
down
deep within—

hoping to find
some sign of life…

I then discovered
what seemed to be
the steady hum of a bee—
the distant murmur rising.

I love mysteries
(even those within me)
and so
ever since that night
I’ve worked to attune myself
to the bee hum
and in that way
I’ve slowly learned to comprehend
a language still foreign.

A tedious task
yet an ideal way
to gift the mind and heart:

that bee is so wise—
consider this:

in my moments of doubt
the bee often tells me:
don’t worry—
these motions are not for nothing
you’re always making honey.

Listen intently
and you may hear
your own bee hum

not just inside yourself
but also hidden within
the buzz of your words:

while you and I distract ourselves
with lazy chitchat
our two bees communicate
at a frequency higher
than what the untrained ear
can usually detect.

Bees always speak honestly
so my bee might likely tell your bee
how I ran—how I leapt
in a vain attempt
to defy gravity

and your bee might tell mine
how a oak tree can spin
while sitting still.

Our bees reveal to the world
  our secret fears
  our secret shame
  our secret strength
  our secret grief…

but of course
my bee talks mostly to me
just as your bee talks mostly to you.

Unfortunately
I often miss the message of mine
as I rush and holler and curse—

most days
I rush and holler and curse
until I finally collapse—
feeling defeated—
downright dead…

but at such times
I may again be
open to my bee—
at such times
the bee may repeat
what I know but keep forgetting:

these motions are not for nothing
we’re always making honey.

 

© 2017, Michael R. Patton
myth steps blog

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author’s note:

I believe we’re all working in the same way…

…and we never retire.
 

ON THE OTHER SIDE OF MY EYELIDS

Years ago, I woke to find
a whirling circle of sun-fire
descending from a fog
hovering above me—

threatening
yet harmonious—
like the aerial view of a hurricane:
a swirling blaze
of orange and gold tentacles
spiraling
into a cool aqua eye.

I felt myself lift—drawn in
despite the fire

and in sudden response
the eye expanded
to envelop my vision
so I could know
how the soft surface hue
deepens down into
a well of cobalt blue—

ominous and yet
I wanted to dive in

but in an instant—by instinct—
I shut my shocked eyes

and found relief
for my palpitating heart
in that old familiar darkness

however…
amid the growing stillness
I could sense
the awakening desire
of a higher instinct.

In answer
I tried to open again
but soon learned:
I’d not yet earned
more than that brief glimpse.

Ever since
I’ve worked to build
the strength needed
to accept
that which I want
yet fearfully reject.

Yes—
in fatigue, I often sloth

but even then
I can sense the mystery lurking
on the other side of my eyelids

so I remain tantalized…

driven.
 


© 2017, Michael R. Patton
myth steps blog

night-mountain-light-db-db-february-20-2017sc

author’s note:

Easy to forget that we’re in outer space.
 

HEADLIGHT ON THE HILLTOP

Yeah—
what I saw was probably
just a car headlight
switching from low to bright
then from bright to low
up there on the hillside.

Nonetheless
the sight thrilled my heart
before I could stop to think

and when
the light blinked off
a few moments later
(or maybe it was an hour)
my eyes began to search
the heavens in hope

even as I told myself:
you’ll find nothing above
except a litter of stars

and indeed
though I did strain
that’s all I could see:
distant balls of gas

but so many…
more than I could possibly take in—

once again
I felt our universe to be
something so much greater
than my small mind
can comprehend…

once again
I felt microscopic
in the mystery—

wonderfully insignificant.

Yes, I told myself
probably just a headlight
beaming from low to bright
then from bright to low
over and over again

but even so…

a blessed event.
 


© 2017, Michael R. Patton
Searching for My Best Beliefs: a book

edge-swirl-b-g-b-january-3-2017sc

author’s note:

I thought the beginning of the new year was a good time to post this poem…

…an optimistic poem about plunging into the great unknown.
 

THE EDGE IS A GOOD PLACE TO GO BEYOND

In the beginning
the world was indeed flat…

the roundness was created later
by a crusty dark-eyed captain:

having gained riches and fame
through a lifetime of struggle
he festered, dissatisfied…
until his imagination hit upon
the type of fanciful goal
that brings destruction:

he would escape his malaise
by venturing forth alone
in search of
the edge of the Earth

and when he found the end
he’d plunge over
to discover
what lay beyond

even though that leap
might mean his death.

Having chosen this quest
our captain did not hesitate
but soon put out
in a little wooden boat…

rowing past all continents, atolls, and islands

until he arrived at
a vast expanse of ocean
unmarked and lying ominous in its quiet
all the way to an indefinite horizon

but
our mariner did not hesitate—
no, he continued on…

and when all land had disappeared
he forgot both distance and time—
his mind became numb
as his body became numb:
he ceased to think
he ceased to care
he moved by rote
he even forgot who he was

and did not break
from this stupor
until he finally came to a place
where the waves pulled back
upon themselves
as if afraid of falling off.

The air sizzled with static energy
as our captain stood and gazed
into the darkness beyond the water
where a swirling mass of dense gray cloud
obscured the great monolithic
Unknown…

Yes, he hesitated

before he said
what he usually said
when afraid but resolved:
“damn it all to hell!”

then with his next breath
he plunged into the wild threshold

where his tiny boat stuck—
caught in a force field:
the bow swallowed by fog
the stern hanging on the tip
of the last ocean crest.

The worn boards shook
as though ready to explode
while our mariner worked the oars
into two frenzied blurs—
driven by the type of pent-up frustration
that comes from living small

or
stated another way:
he was taken up
by the secret desire
of the deep heart.

Our navigator
believed he held
enough inner power
to burst through any barrier
however

he also had the good common sense
to doubt

and the honesty
to admit his greatest fear:

no, not death, but the thought
that his grand adventure might become
just another pathetically funny story
in the book of human folly
and waste.

Shadowed by that specter
he became ever more desperate
and rowed and strove and cursed
until his cage burned
with golden intensity.

We often celebrate
such determination
but stubbornness
doesn’t necessarily guarantee success
unless…

you’re butting against an artificial barrier
which, by definition, must eventually fall
to human will.

But though the captain
had long declared
I can, I must, I will
he was still shocked
when his tiny boat finally shot
over the edge—!

and in a flash
the end vanished
as the world with a roar
became round all at once

and the barrier, now broken
became nothing at all
since by definition
blocks can not have openings.

As for our somewhat-satisfied captain…

following the curvature
of the Earth
he simply sailed on
and in short time, arrived home
since circles will naturally return us.

I’ve dusted-off this story
hoping it might inspire
because I believe at present
we sense the presence
of another barrier—
invisible to us because
we are blocked.

Instinctively, we roam
we poke about—we search
for an opening
without knowing we search—

instinctively, afraid
but driven by the secret desire
of the deep heart
or
stated another way:
pushed and prodded
by the pent-up frustration
of living small.

Sometimes we butt against
the unknown contours
of that unknown wall
but then hesitate—

perhaps we fear the power
we’ll need to summon in order
to burst through that barrier

but I believe we’ll eventually succeed
because our natural inclination
is to reject and break
barriers, borders, walls—

we want to be more
because our higher intuition tells us
being less can destroy

and not in the good way
shown by that captain.
 


© 2016, Michael R. Patton
Searching for My Best Beliefs: a poetry book

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