Poetry

The bustling clanging of daylight action

creates cluttering static in the brain.

Silence in the night offers solution,

yet night itself may provide a refrain

of off-hand noise from roaring vehicles,

or children plagued by traumatic nightmare,

or one’s own insomniac, riddle dreams,

which may inspire momentary scare.

Still silence in the night is a pleasure

to be savored like a cheerful bouquet

of flowers you have picked from your garden.

Silence itself is a form of leisure

like gazing fondly at the Milky Way

or contemplating your childhood again.

Everything around us is mystery:

atoms in a raindrop, sudden thunder,

chemical composition of a tree,

trillions of stars whirling, bloom of flower,

that finger you use to stir your coffee

on this planet which offers such delight

amid rotational velocity

since that day you opened eyes to sunlight!

While some people blind themselves with cliché,

the cosmos careens on its merry way

to points unknown and unfathomable.

All we can work with is comparison.

Yet poetry is more than mere fable,

while God is hardly a theologian….