Meditation on Moving On

At Keystone Café, the radio plays

and words of a song from the sixties pierce my coffee-bred thoughts:

Always something there to remind me…

Trying to forget, I know this world is but a dream

a temporary mirror of the other

that place where you and I reside in eternity

mere cells within the One Great Plan

where time has no meaning

and words don’t exist

and love is a given

Yet here, amongst dog rose and lupin

she, open and pink

and he, closed and blue

we became like them – rooted in sand

surrounded by stones and their stories

drinking summer grey mists

on salt water taffy mornings

but rose petals fade and lupins shrivel

their seedpods of black

hanging like coffins

Right now

in this moment

eagle perches for the view

and fish dance

and gulls dive for the feast

and cry

this is mine

All the while

the ferry inhales and exhales passengers

like a heart-lung machine

a blood bank of journeys

a breaker of waves that crosses the synaptic sea

and, locked into terminal, transmits

holders of keys to neurons

In bursts of energy

flowing down rivers of roads

streams of pulsing potential

these elements of the greater intelligence

try to carry its message

this for the arms that yearn to hold

that for the aching walk-alone legs

and yesterday’s broken dream becomes

one Sunday transformed

A poem is born in words that don’t rhyme

as the radio plays another song:

Can’t you hear the pounding of my heartbeat,

You’re the one I love…

Holding the mirror close, all I see is my own breath

and waves that drill the shore in a tumbling roll

while the ocean remains constant

and eagle takes flight


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Filed under Poetry

15 responses to “Meditation on Moving On

  1. Hi. I like the image of the ferry, breathing people in and out. I also like the loose petals in the photo. Jane

  2. Thank you Edward. I love your poem/haiku on the carp. Tried to leave a comment on your site (twice) but it wouldn’t take for some reason.

  3. I loved this piece, although I must confess that the “words don’t exist” might be a bit hard on all of us writers. They circle around us and fill our transient world and life is unimaginable without them.

    • Oh so true!! What would we writers be without words? Stark raving mad for one thing. My line referred to the other side, when in spirit, we don’t need words. We just know and understand. From the place of spirit, words seem terribly restrictive and confining, as they can only portray the small picture. In spirit we become a part of the big picture and all we need to do is imagine before we see/hear/feel/smell and understand perfectly. Thanks for your comments!

  4. I love the contrasts in these lines as you carefully build up your picture.

    • Thanks, John! Those contrasts in nature are something that fascinate me. Any keen observer of science, life, nature is bound to learn from the contrasts, because they bring up the questions. The things that surge and go on, such as the drilling waves, the ferry passengers, the fishing gulls and the eagle all serve to remind me that life does go on and when I’m tempted to ask Why? What’s this crazy thing we call Life all about? I keep getting the same answer from nature – “Just Be. Be in the moment. Strive, surge, dream, enjoy, live – just keep living, loving and learning – that’s your role – that’s why you are here.” And life becomes an adventure again. Who can feel sad for long at the beginning of any adventure? Not me. 🙂 Thanks for your comment.

  5. Incredible work….painting such images with your words…espec. love the ferry as a heart-lung machine….and the drilling wave….wow

  6. How lovely to read a piece that pulls one directly into the moment. You renewed my appreciation for living in the now, for respecting the complexity of each minute and the simplicity as well.

  7. Reminds me somehow of Eugene, Ore. by the dock.

    • Yes, we share the same coastline so you got the picture quite right. Thanks for your comment.

      • Haiku water – I tried to leave a comment on your site, but for some reason, every time I tried to publish it, the comment disappeared. I enjoyed your haiku with the sun and sounds leaving weight on your back – an unusual way of portraying light and sound, yet when I read the words, I felt the sensation without effort. Nice Haiku!

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