The Spirit Lives

    
The Spirit Lives
  
In desert lands, you see at night the stars –
And having seen, you know your place on Earth.
Where grasses wave, you see horizons far,
And seeing, you remember who you are.

And so, in every region of the Earth,
The spirit waits, for you to turn and see.
For you are spirit, just as you are dirt,
And so, in each, you find yourself – and worth.

For nothing that you do can raise you high
And nothing lower what’s your essence true.
For you are one with ocean, earth and sky –
And spirit lives, though mortal self will die.

You aren’t special, speck on speck of dust,
And yet you still perceive the universe.
You’re born to suffer, live and love and lust,
Not knowing why, in this immenseness thrust.

But when, with senses five, you know this world,
And with yet others, sense the infinite,
Then like the tiny plant, with leaf unfurled,
You humbly savor that, in which you’re hurled.

Is there a god that knows the reason why?
Some say there is – and worship their creator.
And others smile – and such a thing deny.
Who speaks the truth – and who repeats the lie?

I only know that each is like a cloud
That forms and changes shape and dissipates.
And yet, there’s more.  I cannot say it loud,
Nor whisper it – before I exit out.

2014 January 26th, Sun.
Bensonhurst, Brooklyn