Sunday, October 25, 2015

Awake to Seek


Up and suit yourself,

Into the floundering pattern-mudded

Consciousness of this our finite skin---

Into a being 'berthed' bemused, beseemed morning

So like the proverbial hog, the typical sow of the round ring

Who as life's suitors are led about by their snouted 'knows;'

Beshrewed, besotted, bemired so we instinctively grunt,

Following our sensual, careening awareness

Or our dutiful grindstoned routine,

We press our life's suit 'til evening

Or wallow down

To our suited


by Daniel Wilcox

First pub. in Moria Poetry


in the time of Darkness

to commune with the Ultimately Real
in the midst of our utter loss
in the darkened night of alone
to contemplate despite a soon demise,
to live in the Infinite's silence
deafens our wayward heart and leaves
our confused mind bereft;
the Divine answers no pleas
our anguished request left--


to hope against midnight's despair
to trust in all that is blessedly Fair,
so Beautiful, Right, Good and Just
despite our world history of horror
for naught, and absurd;
we seek
a slight glimmer
of the billion-lighted
meaning shimmering briefly
in our finite reason and creative awareness,
before the cosmos spun into place,
eternally ever always


In the Light,

Daniel Wilcox

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