Transit of Delight

Transit of Bliss From the High

Standing on the dock in this arriving mess
without waiting captain, a sea waits wide.
Inward, ocean horizons my soul a compass
for the seafare, a sloop made for my father
his eternal rest left it high and adrift, a cloud
in my sky of dreams, a quest for there.

This metaphoric seduction costs me pretty
a balance lost against the external grinds.
Disables, rescinds, cancels, and otherwise
ties a dream of freedom in dirge at dock.
Command expresses external axis to act
in labels moving to response, by and by.

Thus everything belonging to the present
including truth, energy, beauty, beings =
are immune to the clinging of command.
Poetry itself, language manifestly inward
requires a muse that transcends its world
where order of function thrives, as a rule.

My present furls on the dock of my transit
enough I reckon, to satisfy one afternoon.
I'm on an expedition to vibrating present
Where what comes from higher sources
is kept consciously so, never lost below.
My unfurled delight sails a windless wind.

I ask only for natural harmonic continuity.
Look for me playing on a big wave, cresting.
The best shine radiates a cleared deck.
A good sailor makes his art the best of now
Where consciousness of higher and lower
allows higher influence a blissful sanctuary .

© 8/2010 rjduberg