Something old, yet, I persisted.

People Over Politics, World Over Wealth!

Yeti Persisted ~ Philip Brent Harris


Now, we sing hymns of praise, preach sermons of damnation.
Who do we laud? Who do we curse?
We pretend we march in lockstep, tied together in a three-legged race
attacking and retreating. Some people run, fight to finish first,
drag their unwilling partners toward their dubious goal.

The gods we praise cannot see our foe,
behind banners we raise hiding all we think we know.

I walk alone and unsure through crowded streets,
seeking truth, but I demure. Drowned by driving rain,
choked by dust and smog, burned by the sun, parched,
searching for celestial ambrosia instead of simply seeing stars.

All the gods we raise but flags we wave, faux.
Our faith we must reappraise, since we will not say we do not know.

Youth found me fed and clothed in raiment plain but hardy.
By my companions matched, used until no use remained,
as we are, worn out, hard used. I did not understand then.
Convince myself, now I know what matters to me.
Not clothing, though I have no lack. Not shelter, also mine.
A place to rest, food to eat, all mine, my life seemly, seems replete

When I discard my flesh, my bones, friable ligature;
my being whole through this loss. No sacrifice at all.
save by any left behind to suffer, grieve, sob.
Their time delayed, end dark.

When our one and only leaves us lost and lonely,
lost connection of one soul briefly reveals the whole.

I wander each day, wonder what my day will bring.
Blessed, at least, with love, whose opposite, apathy, speaks fear.
My wealth middling, piddling compared to the misguided few.
Though I do not suffer.

I yearn not for truth alone. It surrounds me ever and always.
Each breath and every moment. I refuse to imagine gods
to bear my pain, shoulder my burdens, during my brief
moments of flesh, this illusion of being alone.

How can I ever be alone? Warmed as the sun, within clouds,
washed through with rain, spread across the night sky,
shining the stars, all matter. No matter the terms I use.
Animate, inanimate, god, labels we use to describe
what we do not apprehend, comprehend. All sing truth, sing me.

I am blessed with creation. I am cursed with creation.
As all creation needs food, water, air, I require expression.
Yet, how do I compare? I am not cold, without warmth,
hungry, without food, dry, without drink. I have shelter
body and mind. I love and am loved. Yet my temporary
carapace ages, no matter what I have or choose.

Creation in which all abide, abides within all existence,
speaks the whole’s desire, to manifest through us,
to remind us to remain humble. Realizing that should I
be able to name every part, each particular element,
I will not know the whole. I will but admit my need.

I have walked down streets, passed homeless wrecks
and turned my face away, more than once.
I am saddened to admit I will do so again. Unequal to
bear witness, offer succor or sanctity, I reject myself.

I will struggle on, dig deep, clear the debris from my life,
let shine the bold self of my youth, sometimes foolhardy,
 never afraid. I will forge ahead, foraging in virgin earth
gather kindling to build a fire to warm those near me.
I will water life with my tears, both of sorrow and joy.
I will blow away the dust, which obscures my heart,
scrape away the false face that I have stood behind.
I will raise my eyes so that others may see.
I will share my truth, my beauty, my being.
Till spirit sings to spirit. Sparks rising from the whole
give us a brief glimpse of the glorious fires of all creation.


Peace is Purpose, Nonviolence is Strength,
Diversity is Unity, Empathy is Empowerment 

Unite the World!

See more of my creative offerings at:

Philip Brent Harris Fine Art, Digital Art and Photography

A Roosevelt Elk faces the setting sun.

Challenging the Sun ~ Philip Brent Harris

Vida Voices
Masks, Scarves, Bags, Apparel, Homevida voices II


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