*******       ***********  

 

 

Gold and Pink Seashells

 

I had a sailor friend,

from the South Pacific,

who asked me

a very thoughtful question,

while we were out fishing.

 

And I pondered, as I listened,

while we were out a fishing.

 

My friend, named Rongo Rongo,

asked me cool and calm: “Bro?”

 

“What is up with gold,

why does it mean so much?”

 

I said: “Where have you been man?

Gold’s used for trading,

it is pretty and it’s “styling”.

 

It is hard to find

deep in the mine.

 

It starts wars,

buys whores,

adorns blushing brides,

and funds

the bling-bling stores.

 

Gold is used

for new teeth,

electroplates,

and treasuries.

 

A medium

of exchange,

which for

everyone

is wishing.

 

But I want to know,

Rongo Rongo,

why do you ask,

while we are out a fishing?”

 

Rongo Rongo said:

”Oh, hey, that’s the kind, Bro,

I see now what gold is all about!

 

“Back home on the islands,

There are little pink sea shells,

that grow out on,

the deep side of the reef.

 

They are hard to find,

dangerous work,

but when we get them,

we tie them in a string,

and trade

with those pretty things!

 

Gold is like

little pink seashells!

 

Wars are fought over them.

Brides are traded for them.

 

For jewelry,

and money.

Precious, rare,

to carry, or to wear.

 

Get as many as you can,

then you will be,

undoubtedly,

a very wealthy man.”

 

And I pondered, as I listened,

while we were out a fishing.

 

That really made me fidget,

and feel like a mental midget.

I thought he was dumb,

but I was the one,

who learned what it’s about!

 

Pretty pink seashells,

pretty gold nuggets,

mediums of exchange,

so pretty,

and so strange.

 

We make them

into everything,

money,

flashy chains

and rings.

 

Pink shells,

golden nugs,

Metal coins,

easy to lug.

 

Minerals,

crystals,

beads,

salt,

and precious stones.

 

Resins,

medicines,

shekels,

script,

and bones.

 

I was grateful for the lesson,

from this very thoughtful question,

from a friend,

from the South Pacific.

 

And I pondered, as I listened,

while we were out a fishing.

 

*******       **********

Mind Your Mind   

                                                                                   

Mind your mind,

Friend of mine.

We’ll get along,

All the time.

 

Tell you what,

I’m going to do.

I’ll mind my mind,

Back to you.

 

***********

 

What is Time? 

 

What is time?

The dancing of bodies,

spinning around each other,

dancing ever on

through the endless moment?

 

What is this notion

of clocks

that move as drumbeats

pounding the march

and progression

of earth around sun?

 

Abide in the present.

 

All else is the phantom

of memory

and anticipation

that binds you

in the notion

of self, and

what is real.

 

The real you

is as timeless

and eternal

as the universe

when you find

yourself

ever

in the now.

 

Go there and stay,

without looking forward

or back.

 

Go there

and watch

creation unfold.

*********** 

 

Duality Versus Paradox

The angry crowd

Leaves me weary

And frightened.

All this senseless fuss.

 

It’s hard to see

Over a big round globe,

So we make a flat coin

With two sides,

Then shout and scream

Heads, no, tails!

 

Both sides make the whole.

All along continuum,

Grow the summer fruit,

Green, ripe then rotten.

Paradox begets duality.

 

Green, ripe, then rotten.

Along the continuum,

Arising, Sustaining,

Fading, Forgotten.

 

 

**********       *******

What Remains?

 

What remains after the end?

Nothing?

An interim?

A new beginning?

 

A circle game,

where losers lose

and winners win?

 

Or, turned inside out,

where spoils are lost,

and sacrifice repays it’s cost?

 

To whom does the loss arise?

To whom does the “I” arise?

That I am, is all I am.

 

Who can say? Who can say?

What remains after then?

Who can say what’s lost?

 

Waiting well is everything.

Happy to wait and see.

 

Gathering sustenance,

Playing,

Remaking the miracle.

 

Gathering grain, earning pay.

Passing through, another day.

 

Until it’s time for harvest

I wait in surrender

to the whirling

of the green globe

around the ember sun.

 

Glowing coal,

throwing sparks

that illumine,

giving light,

giving life,

in the freezing,

empty dark.

 

And then

someday

far away

the green globe

turns red,

and falls

Into the furnace

where it all began.

 

Who can say?  Who can say?

Where, and if, it ends?

Who can say?  Who can say?

Where it all begins.

 

*********** *******

It Amazes Me 

 

They brought sunflowers to my funeral.

It made me so happy that I cried,

causing a warm rain to fall

from my vantage point

above it all.

 

There is too much coincidence

to say it is only happenstance,

which truly amazes me.

 

At this moment, quiet and still,

I perceive more than this cool rainy day

that comes with the renewal of Spring,

and the promise of redemption therein,

a reassurance that the wait is over

and growth has been primed

with a chance to begin again,

 

It seems to me so strange today.

I am sure in this moment

that all at once

I am already dead

and yet to be born,

here now, bearing witness to that.

 

After decades of wondering

about the notion of reincarnation

I have empirical truth

that it is in fact so.

 

My evidence resides

here at home with me.

My new brain, eyes, experience

has come as a gift

from their mother and I.

 

Divine Mother,

Mother Nature,

My Child’s Mother.

They teach me about myself

as we begin again, anew,

which truly amazes me.

 

*******       ***********

Nothing Ever Happens  

 

Nothing ever happens,

and nothing ever will.

It just goes by, bye and bye,

and never will be still.

 

Nothing ever happens,

and nothing ever will.

Oceans of notions

to feast upon, and swill.

Nothing ever happens,

and nothing ever will.

 

Watching the watcher,

mirror from within,

seeing all that’s passing,

without jumping in,

to illusions of tomorrow,

anticipation reigns.

 

The contrivance of the notion

that yesterday remains,

except as a memory

that slowly, surely, wanes.

 

Nothing every happens,

and nothing ever will.

It just goes by, bye and bye,

and never will be still.

 

Now is where all resides,

here is all there is.

For me to stay by your side,

savoring the bliss.

 

Nothing ever happens,

and nothing ever will.

Together by your side,

always there, until…


*******       ***********

 

Sacred Symbols

 

Sacred symbols

on the signs.

Soliloquies

speak silently

into the mind.

 

Encyclopedic books

Written in simple marks.

Ideas abound

In cosmic sound.

 

Notation of

complex wisdom

expressed in

simple parts.

 

Sacred Symbols

Say it all

in stokes of lines

and marks divine

carrying wisdom

through space and time.

 

***********       *******

 

Darkened Veil

 

Death, please lift your darkened veil,

So I can see the onward trail.

So I might know loving grace,

And fall into sweet embrace.

 

Death, please lift your darkened veil,

So I can see the swirling sun.

So I can see the earth below,

Redeemed each day, in burning glow.

 

Death, please lift your darkened veil,

Show what remains, when all has failed.

Please show me, my destiny,

as I enter in, to eternity.

 

Death, please lift your darkened veil,

so peacefully spirits can sail.

With wings, may dreams, then take flight

bringing us in, to The Light.

 

Death, please wait, until my time is near.

Just as in birth, you hold me dear,

Though I love life, you’re too my friend,

showing where one thing starts,

and another ends.

 

Death, you are an angel dear,

Unto the Lord, delivered there.

For lessons learned, forgiveness begged.

I try my best, for a life well lived.

 

Death, please lift your darkened veil,

So I can see the onward trail.

So I might know loving grace,

And fall into sweet embrace.

 

 

*******       ***********

 

Two Wrongs Don’t Made A Right

 

Two wrongs don’t make a right.

It takes two to have a fight.

Too much hate, too little love,

I say this to the stars above.

 

The stars, attentive, listen well,

and smile upon where we dwell.

Their inspiration begets change,

healing hearts of those deranged.

 

If you do wrong, then I wrong you,

there’s nothing left for us to do.

Because two wrongs don’t make a right,

and it takes two to have a fight.

 

Too much hate, cries the dove,

singing to the stars above.

The stars, attentive, listen well,

and smile upon where we dwell.

 

On the good side, the side of love.

Walk away, when push makes shove.

Because two wrongs don’t make a right,

and it takes two to have a fight.

 

*******       ***********

(C) (P) Arthur Davenport, Good Read Music LLC, all rights reserved.

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