The Beggar Poet's Hexagram 62: Preponderance of the Small

[stevef]

I suppose the damp will penetrate and leave a stain,
the roof leak
and the sole occupant readjust his furniture
as no temporary fix
could keep out the drip


I’ll wait, then,
for a break in the weather


my neck sore from holding my head
where the sunset provides lingering contrast,
my back aching from leaning too far
from the chairs support
and the distance
from finishing seeming to expand
with each luminous burst of enthusiasm


so,
I shall study a drop splashing on the table
than the mood leading to light filled dreams…


an absent heart
will never beat in the silence


convey the sorrow on hearing the loss my old friend endured
when his youngest son fell from the swing
than offering solace
in potential levels transcending daybreak…


blood
and flesh preceded
by a word
of kindness


pen a letter
to a dying relative than following the flow
from a river’s source
to breaking up in waves…


the space
too much for one person to fill


instead of pursuing reminiscence evoking lands
free of conflict
I will not silence the chill wind following leaves down the chimney,
turn the blare away from the sentient moon
or still wet cheekbones


the tomb will open when the time is ready,
a handkerchief wipe away tears
and the glow
that precedes moments having accomplished something special
resurface




lonely as a shower
in winter, deep as midnight with the cat asleep,
close to the bruise above my knee
I’ll blow out the candle
and go to bed.