Poetry: Ten Fingered Child

One last one for tonight.  Again from way on back in 2008 or so.

Ten Fingered Child

What am I
but a ten fingered child
grasping for continuity
amidst the scissors of change?

Who stitches that up?

I wonder about how God’s plans
don’t ever change
and about how our plans
are always being changed.

“Change is an illusion”
I muse with a smile
oh but when change comes
…mile after mile
I am a believer
and the illusion is so pervasive
that I weep in the pulpit
of direct experience
on
my
knees.

Change is the struck match.
The word
that sets fire
to expectation
sending smoke into our eyes
and blocking all exits
to where we were going to be-
supposedly going to.

It is the belief
that our plans
are sacrosanct
that our paths are our own
that our aims are lofty.

We aren’t poor players,
just ignorant ones.
It isn’t true that we signify nothing…
we just don’t yet understand
what it is
that we do signify.
Perhaps “change” is a pointer
as to what we do not.

Let others babysit continuity
and father the offspring of expectation.
Let others fight with scissors.
I am but a ten fingered child
and I should like to keep them all.

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About skymeetingtheground

Healer, poet, author, yogi, single father...outdoorsy guy.
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One Response to Poetry: Ten Fingered Child

  1. Luby says:

    Just wonderful. Thank you.

    Like

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