Coffins

So much of what we undertake in this life is done to satisfy expectations. Is it not best to do what we know to be right, regardless of the approval of others? Whether this be schooling, work, or, in this case, burial, the argument is always the same. Do not waste effort pandering to the expectations of society. The truth will be found in following your reason, your heart, and your conscience. In this particular case, I see no reason why my survivors should spend thousands of dollars to bury me in a box for which neither they nor I will find any use, and which will serve only as the bed of my decomposition. Far better to return as I came, wrapped in cloth and unmindful of the womb in which I will lay.


Coffins

No man was born to occupy a box;
his billet is the bounded mortal sphere,
and when his life has superseded clocks
and compasses, no home will find him here,

alone and lifeless in a velvet bed,
his carnal heart concluded, as a new
and fitter heart is founded overhead.
To sorrow for the former is askew

of immortality. So lay me low
in linens, leaving better homes for those
whose hearts are still enlivened. Let me go
as I arrived, and all bereft of clothes

and dwelling, for I need no earthly nest
when I no longer play the earthly guest.

The Saplings

Small trees are never taken by the wind; only the large, whose boughs have far outpaced their roots. The little trees bend to nature, while their elders keel over, and so I have never walked in the woods after a windstorm to find all the trees still standing. The persistence of those yet upright is measured not by the girth, but by the limberness of their trunks.


The Saplings

The wind is like a lioness;
she furrows in the wheat
and makes the supple saplings press
their temples in defeat,
to curtsey for the watercress,
their lofty spires ever less
than lesser in retreat.

But even they are unconcerned
as every aged bole
is overthrown and underchurned
to bare a ragged hole,
all roots and radicles upturned.
This sufferance is only earned
by yielding control.

New Moon

At first glance, the night sky seems static and immobile, and the stars and moon appear fixed in their positions. Wait long enough, however, and you will notice that they have a steady, if miniscule, motion. Place a tree beside the moon, and eventually it will obscure it; watch the stars along the western horizon, and they will gradually disappear from view. Little motions seem non-existent in passing, but in truth they are the difference between night and day.


New Moon

The moon is a dimpling smile,
half-spun in the nebulous trees
and steadily striding an aisle
in minutes of motive degrees,

sidereal in their decline
and edged by the flickering stars.
A million pin-pricks align
to shepherd her onwards of Mars

and Venus, Olympian friends,
so firm in this evening dance
that ushers her as she ascends
and sinks with a Cheshirish glance.

My Soul Maintains a Smile

What good is it to worry about all the things we cannot control? Do your best in those which are given over to your will, and leave the rest to the mercy and foresight of God, Who is a far better architect of the future than you or I.


My Soul Maintains a Smile

My soul maintains a smile
at the fickle path of fate,
as I walk an endless mile
and arrive forever late,

for to worry is levy
I cannot afford to pay,
when the happiness is heavy
that would see me worn and grey

and a pauper, with a pittance
of the wealth that men revere.
I would rather a remittance
that is not so dim and drear,

to escape the earthly measure
we have made prosperity,
where my solitary treasure
finds me joyful and free.

Reserve

We are surrounded by a constant and catalytic spectacle of exhibitionism and voyeurism. We like to see and we like to be seen, and why? Almost always, it is founded in a desire for endorsement. Look around you at almost any display of physical beauty and ask yourself whether said displayer is confident in said beauty. The answer is almost certainly no. The truly confident have no need to display their wealth. It is the insecure who make their facilities visible to the general public. They want to be told they are beautiful, smart, witty, et cetera. And this is why the rarest and most irresistible beauty is the hidden beauty, that beauty that offers itself only to the chosen few. So, do not make displays of yourselves. The wealth you possess is worth far more than that. And do not worry on endorsement and acceptance, for those who would appreciate you only when you are made a spectacle merit no attention at all.


Reserve

What beauty ever was as rare as yours,
to rest within a chamber, veiled so
from scrutiny? Such spoils of wars
as others are would make a feeble show

of passion, less requited than repaid.
The heavy lacquer of a thousand eyes
has settled on this stale masquerade
and set the striving higher than the prize.

But you are ever spotless as you were,
and eyes have not despoiled your wealth.
Your confidence is elegant and sure,
your poise, prepossessing in its health,

your vessel, irreplaceable in worth.
Spare vintage is a solitary plight.
Among the brazen pickings of the earth,
but one alone sustains a vestal light

and longs to see a longing flame return
the signal fire, manifest and pure.
Or have you found a sympathetic burn,
a conflagration worthy of concern,
to token in the realms of the obscure?