Transformation in Five Acts

Transformation in Five Acts

1 minute read

This poem outlines the slowness of the moments accruing toward revelation.
It highlights the patience needed for anything of beauty to come to fruition.
It also celebrates the wonder of small details and lives, as what make up the miracle of being
The writing process started as an exercise in mindfulness, in noticing the changes in the natural
environment and celebrating them as the very embodiment of the essence of life.
The moment of consummation, the climax, is also celebrated with the awareness of both its
numinous quality and its transiency.
Through the tracking of changes in the natural environment, the poem also accounts for the little,
inner movements of individual consciousness attuning and listening to nature, and witnessing both
itself and the outside changing world.
Even if there is no identification, there is an allegiance between the observer and the surrounding
world, as the underlying theme is a sort of rhythm, a spiritual harmony between human
consciousness and the natural happenings.
The poem celebrates listening as a key attitude, involving more than our ears, a way of being in the
world and taking care of it.

In the starless night
lulled by a huge orange moon
I prick my ears
breath slowly
Below the river runs
bubbling forth
with a voice of its own
delivering messages
in an uncracked code.

The caterpillar becomes water
waiting for an unknown life.
All around warm darkness
envelops its stillness
till the moment comes.

A blue butterfly sails
the air with wings like
transparent veils.
A pink rose has been waiting
since the dawn of time.
Blue butterfly lands on its crown
the silent consummation
of destined love.
All around other butterflies
and other roses all in many hues
but none like
this butterfly and this rose.
Difference is a nuance
the hint of a scent wafting
in the late Spring air.

Soon the pink stork comes out
of the marsh.
After waiting, standing still
in the swamp, it is ready to fly
Still waters reflect its long beak
as it waits to catch its prey.
Mud has settled to the bottom.
The waters are mirror-like.

And the sleepy volcano
yawning at the sky
wakes up.

It releases lava and cloaked stars.
At dawn, all will be revealed.

The inner voice of truth
awakens and blows in me
sweeping the plains
shaking the torpor off
the oak trees.
There will be a grove