Powers of reason

POSTED IN contemporary poetry October 31, 2017

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Powers of reason

I was walking down the street one day,
in a metaphoric truth,
when all at once and out of the blue,
an idea came into view,
Aha! says I, That’s it … Yes!

I considered and pondered, thought a bit,
Feels right, says I, This is it!
I thought awhile about the possibilities,
to explore its potentiality,
reflect upon its practicality

Turned a corner, to my surprise,
A prime example before my eyes,
A perfect illustration of the insight which transpired
In those few moments before I conspired
to change direction in my real imagine area…

That’s what I’m talking about, thought I
This is but one way this can be viewed:
I reflected and searched.
I reflected searchingly.
I searched reflectively.

Oh.. yeah! I heard some angels sigh,
And turned my gaze towards the sky,
It’s like a cloud, moving from east to west,
dissipating and dispensing a sustaining grace
upon this unawareness unaware-necessarily

Comparatively obvious, one could surmise
a relatively blatant indication
if considered under balancing conditions
under one-to-one, corresponding situations
All other factors equal – it would be assumed

In contrast, an air of subtlety
hanging in a coolish casual mystery
disguised, a disguise in dark shades, no doubt
not to not see naught from the inside out
but because naught is seen, ‘less allowed

As well, as well I may have guessed,
there was a simple reason for all of this:
a primal source of that phenomenon
lying in a shadow, lain, consequent
to virtue of a foreknown, fateful consequence

Though its ultimate reality could not be told,
namelessness its pre-existent indication,
still, mercifully, there were ways to point the way
and its passing plentifully traced
or, but not and, resurrections portrayed

In fact, enumerating its appearance
would be a virtual impossibility;
even casual attention to its deportments
reveal a sympathetic harmony of movements
which might be likened to flickers of reality

Immensely, appropriately qualified
as evidenced by anything that’s true
having unnumbered circumstantial application
independently possessed of its own justification
unencumbered by materialistic folly, it stood.

And so it was that this story came to be;
a walkabout come to a destiny
a dance around the circle of reality,
seven steps, or three, or four:
each a repetition of one step into eternity.

 

 
Garnet Shaw Robbie