On the Shore ~ Philip Brent Harris
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What gifts given, received would, within my words, sing
Tripping lightly from my brain, my heart, my tongue
Able to express the subtle hopes of anything and everything
The true name of all the life and death I live among
Would my hearing need to be honed so fine
I’d hear the stars in far-flung, long-past galaxies
Celestial choirs heralding death and birth and life
Star stuff, or are such fancy flights mere fallacies
Would my touch then feel the gavotte of dancing atoms
Measuring vast distances within the space between
What soft caress of hand or mind or heart might touch upon
The secret whorls revealing life unimagined and unseen
Would my vision perceive the darkness on its constant course
My wan light struggling its Stygian depths to illuminate
In hopes to watch and learn the unknown dance, perforce
To bear witness to the ever-present miracle we all await
Would I taste the liquid molten fires of first creation
Would icy space and fiery suns my timid palette scald
Must I know the sweet blood-taste of time’s predation
Till my lips and teeth, stained red, in their turn are mauled
Would that I could always live with full intention
Aware, invested and content in each glorious moment
Though struggling to complete myself, without dissension
Till all that was, is, and will ever be share my joy and lament
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Peace is Purpose, Nonviolence is Strength, Diversity is Unity, Empathy is Empowerment
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