HARMONY
We drive from Cambria,
After touring Hearst Castle,
To Morrow Bay,
Passing by a little town
Called Harmony.
Population 18.
Harmony is hidden
From sight
By tall Eucalyptus trees.
As we approach from Highway 1
I can vaguely see an antique store,
A couple of gift stores
A barn and some old rusted out pickups.
And in that split second
I wonder what do they see?
Then the foggy blur of the town
Comes into focus momentarily again.
And I realize they see the world
in a satellite dish.
WHEN BARRIERS NO LONGER EXIST
A
woman, seemingly uptight
And
on edge,
Suspicious
and apprehensive,
Asks a man,
An acquaintance, an admirer, an
inamorato,
What
do you want from me?
He
says, openly and honestly,
Without
interference from his ego,
I
want to get to know your soul.
THE
MISSING YEARS
Man,
insolent and pompous,
At
the height of his hubris,
But
like any other inept superman,
An
urbermensch on a mission impossible,
Reserved
only for those who have the gift,
The
gift to glimpse into the next
Bleak
shortsighted, fragile future,
Begins
to seriously ponder
What’s
left of his ephemeral existence.
Ponders
what legacy he will leave behind.
Examines
the Family of Man,
Bows
his head in prayer, surveys the heavens,
As
if looking for ancestors to the God of the undiscovered,
To
the God of the unknown, to the God of the unrecognized,
To
the God of the unrevealed.
Tests
his technology,
And
if by alchemy or exorcism
Scientifically
probes the past, present, and future,
Discovers
another nonlinear branch
Of
galactic genealogy,
Embedded
in the universe’s DNA.
Continues
to look for the exact moment of the Big Bang,
Hoping,
at the same time, to discover
The
spiritual birth of his soul.
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