Notes About The Poem

At the Edge of the Storm Called: Beyond Understanding

There are those who believe this Age is ending
They mark time by fractures, not by firelight sending.

While I... have watched another map unfold: a hidden one, a tree in hymns
Drawn in the quiet hands of those remembering… you, being one of its limbs.

You were never meant to flee the storm
Sadly, into it… being born.

So, you can rise not as an escapee
But as witness, as a re-weaver to be.

As the one who sees the bones beneath the sky, and fearless...
Did not and does not now… turn away tearless.

Seeing the age of fixed meaning is ending
To apply better stitching, changing, mending.

Knowing we are not who we were... a generation past
And tomorrow, we won’t be who we are today...
 
Being not meant to last.

Not because of failure... because the world has entered a turning
This is not collapse, nor is it progress churning…

It is not prophecy fulfilled
It is just life... paying its bill.

It is the sound of old structures cracking
Beneath the weight of too many borrowed truths, tracking.

It is then the stillness after memory is uprooted
Before new roots find soils better suited.

It is the storm... not of weather, but of meaning
Of something grand, better seeming.

___*___

In this storm, we are asked no longer to believe...
But to perceive better, to receive

Through not holding fast to the known…
No, become able to see what has never been before shown.

To see with the Art of Seeing… not just with the eyes about the room
But through resonances, shimmers, and presence’s blooms

And the broken chords of once-beautiful songs...
Now longing to be sung again

With new notes, containing a deeper silence between them.

___*___

Oh yes, in this age, philosophy must be lived like a raft
Versus written for pillars rising in temples of marble crafts.

This philosophy must float, it must bend
It must not just ask... “What is truth, as of old, where will it too end?”

No, instead: “What is true enough to carry us through this crossing?”
We seek not conclusions tossed… but continuity.

Not control... but resonance, welcomed in unity.

And so, bonding us further into the beyond understanding, we walk.
So it is, this now, with the new path seeing… we will talk.

And once again to sing… a most beautiful song.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2025

Poem

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