Poetry of People / Day 39

Today, we connected with John, 77, from San Francisco, Ca. 

"If I could only live at the pitch that is near madness 

When everything is as it was in my childhood 

Violent, vivid, and of infinite possibility 

That the sun and the moon broke over my head. 

Then I cast time out of the trees and fields, 

Then I stood immaculate in the ego 

Then I eyed the world with all delight, 

Reality was the perfection of my sight. 

And time has big handles on the hands, 

Fields and trees a way of being themselves. 

I saw battalions of the race of mankind 

Standing stolid, demanding a moral answer. 

I gave the moral answer and I died 

And into a realm of complexity came 

Where nothing is possible but necessity  

And the truth waiting there like a red babe."

-Richard Eberhart

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