620 At the beginning and at the end 9-9-16 (go to 580 for key word search)

Everything the newborn
sees, hears, tastes, touches, smells,
is bathed in the misty sheen of magic:
mothers milk, mothers hum, her breast,
the warm bath, air,
each, a miracle.
But as the baby becomes the boy,
the mist is shaved away,
layer by layer,
reason by reason,
until the man lives in a reality
unalloyed by spirit.
Then there is only concrete.
The drift of a car ride,
explained by internal combustion.
The float on the water
diminished by the science of buoyancy.
So the man changes the oil,
swims the race but looses
the miracle of the sea
and the wonder of fire fly rainbows
flitting from crystal globes
dangling on the sun porch.
Then the old man who once
was the newly born
now is dying to find that
mystic world again.
Even, just, a moment of magic,
some unexplainable something
just outside his stretching grasp,
enough mustard seed of faith
to re-believe that all is not stone,
that inevitable death is not
the end of stuff,
but a new beginning in a
golden webbed world.

About Ken Greenman

Married and Happy. Retired and busy. Living in NC. 71 and counting. December 12, 2020 and it's 72! ... I would love some written comments, critiques, adulation or kind suggestions.... If you have the time and or inclination, please feel free! Not in fear but by faith. We will see. See you later! If you ever want to talk for real, email me and I will send you my cell number.... I am enjoying this!
This entry was posted in Poems. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s