So what if you don’t appreciate conceptual art?
so what if you find poetry gibberish,
you to-do-list during the classical concert
and ballet leaves your body icy cold?
You’re crook-faced, your frame’s askew
you find no thrills in professional football
you were a B minus student
and most of the time you want to be alone.
Comparisons are fatal
yet you spend your wounded life making them,
overlooking your glorious achievement
your honorable, eccentric pastimes.
Why not blast through to the peaceful center
loll in your mouth the words you cherish
romp with the passing basset you adore
drag cranky felines back into your life.
We all act as chief critic of our days
so we spend our lives in miserable reflection
instead of striking out among the dandelions,
following the flight of the blue heron.
Relax in the true comfort of your spirit’s life
where you grow, and no one is accusing
put aside loss, gain, overweening emotion
surrender to what’s before you, in you, now.
That’s all there is, anyway, your beauty
your perfection shouts out to the whole universe
but your ears are stopped, you cannot hear
so you sink into the illusion of imperfection.
I hope you find the sun within you
I hope you turn your compassionate gaze upon yourself
I wish you happiness, fun, and, absolutely, pleasure
most of all peace, in the long light here and hereafter.