distant solar system artists drawing. Image: NASA

At first glance, this poem may seem a bit bleak, but there is one tiny clue (that capital “S” at the bottom) that in reality it is a hymn of praise to the Wisdom, Love and Care of our Father as He has provided us with a home planet of such astonishing beauty and potential for learning, including how to love and appreciate Him; a reality of so much depth of field and breadth of vision – where so much depends upon the nature of things, of matter, of space – as to be completely miraculous, however blind we may be to the beauty of its conception, or take its realization for granted as we stumble through during our short human adventures.

If, as I believe, God doesn’t play favorites – is “no respecter of persons” – then, when it comes to His earthly children, just like every other loving, fair, judicious parent, His interactions must, perforce, be limited to either 1) the one, the single child, you, or me, or our cousin, or 2) the whole of us, His entire earthly human family. He doesn’t draw lines around groups, He doesn’t take sides, He simply loves each of us utterly, infinitely and unreservedly as His individual daughters and sons, and all of us collectively as His vast earthly family. And, even as you can’t add more water to a brim-full vessel, such a fullness of love for each and every child absolutely eradicates any possibility of favoritism for any.

This is a useful bit of understanding if one is intent upon doing the will of God since, it further seems to me (and always has) that to “do the will of God,” which is both the stated only goal of Jesus, Himself, and the point of all my prayers, requires an effort, as well, to apply oneself to the pursuit of trying to think like the Father, since one can only know His will if one understands His desires, His motivations, His love that undergirds all and, as the very font of that will, is the required key to perceiving it. Consequently, in my own search for grains of Truth through the experiences of my life – especially in the more tragic times – I have made a mental effort to move my perception as far out into space as possible, to back away from the usual focus on that which is only a few feet in front of me and, like that famous Carl Sagan clip, travel far enough that my perspective is overlaid upon God’s, that I might at least to some tiny degree see all of us and the fragile home on which we live through His eyes. This poem is one result. (I’m thrilled, by the way, that the Pope is working on an encyclical focusing on the environment. How our angels weep at the sorry state of our stewardship! But that is a subject for another post…)

I’ve decided to share this now because it occurs to me that the dawn of a new year is perhaps the best possible time for such long-range reflection. It may be my favorite of all my poems, though I would certainly understand if it isn’t yours.

This is also a good time to say thank you to all of you for spending a little time with me and my musings throughout 2014. May 2015 be a year of many blessings and greater clarity for all of us!

Illusions

So.
Another day has started.
The sky belies December’s end
And the sun passes
The point of no return,
Not noticing…

Oblivious orbs orbit
With nary hitch nor hiccup
To mark their steps
So we mark them ourselves –
For convenience,
For consensus,
For no reason at all, really,
Except that we believe.
Thus, illusions become forces
Forcing reviewing, reckoning,
Remarking to our neighbors
On the ends of things,
Or their beginnings,
Not noticing
They never did, really,
Nor will.

But moving still,
We apply our matrix to the motion —
Latitudes of longevity
To play hopscotch upon —
As if it mattered;
As if nothing mattered.
Avoiding the cracks for Mama’s back
We then dismiss the
Ones not missed
Knowing, but not knowing,
That it doesn’t, and didn’t,
Then continue playing as if it did,
Not noticing
The mask only seen from inside-out.

That’s the Scheme
And we are schemers, all.

— GTW