Illuminated by my faithful dragonfly lamp, a tiny insect just flew by, then disappeared into the dark regions of the desk behind the computer screen. Each of us, engaged in the doings of our lives. There are days I remember, from morning to night, such seemingly forgettable, unimportant things. I think this will be one of them. For how can I be sure that this will not be the last for either of us, or both? And I certainly cannot assume that one of us is more important than the other. We simply contain more or less energy and stardust. We are each other, and are lit from without and within by the mission and need of our relative knowing. It is a grand design. There are millions of bacteria on the tips of each of my fingers. They need me. I need them. If I limit my concern only to what I can see, or whatever happens to capture my attention, I build a shell around myself which, the thicker it becomes, sheds that many more miracles.
December 19, 2021
Asked what he thought was the greatest tragedy he had witnessed during his long life, the old man answered, “That tragedy was myself, every time I saw something as being ordinary.” Then he laughed. And his laughter was his childhood, taking flight in my mirror.
Recently Banned Literature, May 13, 2017
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Categories: New Poems & Pieces, Recently Banned Literature
Tags: Aging, Assumptions, Attention, Awareness, Child and Man, Childhood, Computers, Darkness, Diaries, Dragonflies, Energy, Fingers, Insects, Journals, Knowledge, Laughter, Light, Memory, Miracles, Mirrors, Stardust, Tragedies