by Robert Lockridge
You already understand.
Right in front of you
Your beard is gray
Your heart is hard.
What can you do?
Is there nothing that just appears?
Eyes ears nose tongue body mind
Blood bone and marrow —
none of these suggest anything?
Walk on the high places
Over the green sea
And look up at the deepness of the roiling sky.
Still nothing comes?
Feel your feet on the earth
And see if you can remember that.
Soon you will see clearly.
As chariot wheels spin bright spray
from the glittering strand,
You will dismount and slap the dripping haunch forward,
Forsaking the engine of despair,
And wander insanely like Yeat’s mad barbarian king
As the light of a thousand eyes
Sets fire to the universe.