Wednesday, August 11, 2010

Boxes of the Divine


We are boxes of the Divine.
We come into life empty
and are filled day by day
with experiences.

When we die,
we realize
how much more
we could have held.

2 comments:

Dr. Mike said...

"If we were not haunted by the mystery of the world, we wouldn't realize nothing." –Jack Kerouac

Is poetry alive – or dead? Or both?
What matters if the meter loses change
Or marvels nature’s metaphysic growth?
A shattered vase turns any culture strange.

These losses are enormous on the stock
Exchange, where brokers bet on futures, rue
The roulette spin whose snake eyes drop, and hock
What’s left of pension plans to balance through.

Ignored and ignorant, the troubadours
Seem threadbare hummingbirds unto themselves,
Enraptured when some metaphor restores
Feeling to sound, and that dichotomy delves

Into these mirrors of desire to make
Imaginary numbers calculate.

[Disposable Sonnet August 11, 2010]
Dr. Mike

Tao Dao Man said...

An empty box has the same worth as a full box.

Why must a box be filled?
An empty box also has purpose.