Ten-Thousand Conversations

Ten-Thousand Conversations

It’s just like riding a bike.
No, it’s not. Stillness, not movement,
is where we find balance.
I am contemplating this, thinking
about a potential heavy-weight matchup
between physics professor and maharishi,

when out of nowhere my serenity is
broken by life. Thunderous noises and
flashing lights and ten-thousand
conversations suddenly walk
through the door of my study.
I make a note to get the lock fixed.

Yesterday I was out walking
around the great city, shaking hands
with strangers, prospective life-
changers, drinking of fellowship
and answering boldly to questions
posed by outsiders on the boulevard.

It was a day full of force, interrupted
abruptly by the need for solitude and
privacy and darkness of night. The recluse
has now taken over. But he is so quiet.
He is so motionless. A photograph,
a sculpture, a painted still-life.

He is taken for dead.
What would he say if he could speak?
He would write a poem instead,
(it’s not as if he could shout from the rooftop)
describing how alive he is. Ah, if they
could only see it. If they
would only believe it.

.

Nice poem. I like this verse, it reminds me of a time when I was braver perhaps, or more patient, or less prejudiced. At any rate, a time when I talked more easily to more people. Hah, maybe I was just single. :laughing:

As always, a moment of worth.

Thanks, Tab.

I enjoyed this very much.

You’re the only writer I’ve ever encountered that makes perfection a habit, Rainey.

Thanks, Blurred. Glad you liked it. :slight_smile:

Wow, thanks, Pav. Very kind.

Isn’t it a bit of a tightrope act? How does one balance the inner with the outer life? I find myself falling off that rope constantly. What’s your secret?

I was going to ask you, JT! All I’m capable of doing is writing a poem about it. Hardly a long-term solution…

Damn! I was hoping… Looks like we’re in the same boat. Hey! that’s it! The boat! That solves all the problems. :smiley: