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Open Poetry #48
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secondhanddreampoet
Member Ascendant
since 2006-11-07
Posts 6394
a 'Universalist' !

0 posted 2013-06-22 07:33 PM


      Different Drums

Climb the mountains
in your waking hours.
Ascend the clouds
in your finest dreams.
Roam a thousand
wilderness paths
leading nowhere.
Follow long-wandering
streams to the ever-restless
   sea.
Attune to the eternal
rhythmic pulse of Nature’s
   majesty …
until  that one lovely day
of grand epiphany when
you finally meet yourself
as one with the consciousness
   of the universe.

              --- b. e. adams (6/22/2013)



© Copyright 2013 Bruce E. Adams Jr. - All Rights Reserved
OwlSA
Member Rara Avis
since 2005-11-07
Posts 9347
Durban, South Africa
1 posted 2013-06-23 03:31 AM


Magnificent, Bruce - though for me, I have always known exactly who I am within me and within the Universe, but few are so lucky - but either way, it is a pleasure to read this.  

Owl

Gale
Senior Member
since 2013-06-10
Posts 578
Russia
2 posted 2013-06-23 05:38 AM


It's a very beautiful poem.
And reading this one I remembered another poem, a song of one author. It was about someone searching for himself on the highest mountains, in the deepest oceans, and even underground, but found nothing. And then he read the advice in some old foreign book:
"Find yourself in a looking-glass".
That was the only line written in English (the rest was in Russian), but I often recall that song, when I think that all we are mirrors for each other, and that a single man can't see and understand himself totally, he needs someone's eyes and soul to see his own reflection.

"...on ne voit bien qu’avec le coeur. L’essentiel est invisible pour les yeux."
(A. de Saint-Exupéry)

OwlSA
Member Rara Avis
since 2005-11-07
Posts 9347
Durban, South Africa
3 posted 2013-06-23 08:38 AM


Gale, moi, aussi, j'aime tellement le petit prince et son ami, le renard qui l'a approvoisé.

Owl

Marchmadness
Member Rara Avis
since 2007-09-16
Posts 9271
So. El Monte, California
4 posted 2013-06-23 01:19 PM


Perhaps that is why we age. We are forced to look inward as we can no longer climb mountains. Lovely, insightful poem, Bruce.
                                   Ida

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