Chaos and Calm
At the end of the breakwater
I stand between two extremes.
On one side, the bay's agitations
and hurl of water smashing
against boulders, on the other,
the calm lick of waves
barely rising above a ripple.
Such division throws the mind
out of balance as if it seeks
an equilibrium, a point where
opposites are reconciled in a bland
soup of sameness. A hurried
scramble to find the predictable
in the messy tangles of chance.
The world is not like this.
Creation is born
out of the spewing throats
of volcanoes, earth upheavals
and flooding rains then given
time in a pause to rest and put
together its masterpiece.
For us, storms, earthquakes,
raging fires are seen as arrows
of misfortune flung by nature
or vengeful gods. For creation
they are tools wielded out
of a primary need, something
beyond the grasp of mere earthly
calibration. Praise be
for chaos and calm,
the hammer and polish
of creation.
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