For Richard
Somewhere, way out there
I know of souls who grapple
With the Big Questions
The ones I only hear echos of.
Here on Earth, in my little nest,
I play parlor tricks of the mind
Looking for emptiness
And finding it winking back
As everything and everyone.
But I don’t fool myself
Into thinking it is significant
Or somehow adds anything
To what a single human
Can and does do to further the whole.
Meanwhile there are souls I know
Struggling with their embodiment
The tenuous hold
Of dust swirling around spirit
A cyclone with such a center.
And it is to these rare beings
Although they may curse the burden
That the gifts of fecundity
Have been heaped.
Somewhere out there
I know of great souls
Who grapple with the Big Questions
Not because they want to
But because they must.
And in my own humble way
I wish them well
And lend them strength
As the dust settles
To be only, always, this.
(2/27/25)
Copyright © James Moore | Year Posted 2025
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