In the Construct of Glutted Days

                                  Step Into Liquid ~ Philip Brent Harris


In the depths, the canyons of urban landscape,
Where, I wonder, should I think to find beauty?
Difficult to know where I might start my search.
Should I go to a park, surround by busy streets,
With sounds of commerce, traffic roaring past?
A museum, perhaps, full of line, design, people
Crowded cheek by jowl, bending to read blurbs.
We spend time inspecting, ingesting alphabet,
Rather than spending time appreciating the art.
Running from case to case, where no one stands,
Moving when other people crowd around you.

I can see bits of beauty in a park or a museum,
But I cannot find exactly what I’m looking for.
Beauty is truth, truth beauty, so Keats opined.
Perhaps I should search for the truth instead;
Yet, truth appears even more difficult to find.
I don’t want the bald truth, a straight shooter,
For these smack of blatant bias and opinion.
I am not after bits of the truth or veiled hints.
This is not about finding your truth, my truth,
Not truth on subway walls or tenement halls.
Yet, in silence, I think I see truth and beauty.

Where do I find intrinsic truth, from the heart.
Examine both the flowers and the busy bees,
Plumbing ocean depths and gazing at the sky.
There, silence say, here find truth and beauty,
But makes me wonder why few others see.
Sitting quietly, I wonder, think, feel, decide;
I see beauty in the water and truth in the fire.
I recognize both listening to nature’s choir.
Seek no more where truth and beauty abide,
I look  to where they’ve always been, inside
Peace is Purpose, Nonviolence is Strength,  Diversity is Unity, Empathy is Empowerment

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