The Secret of Life

The riptide pulled and weighed us down,
swimming in our shoals.
It bent us in our will to win,
oh weary, sorry souls.
 Oh tiresome, terrifying days
when scholars moved to preach
that all of Christendom was ours,
but always out of reach.
 Oh weary, sorry souls, I cried
for all of us, who're driven,
wherein unconscious mind, so tuned,
lays bare the ego given.
 Always, it seems, beyond our reach,
genetics never fail
to teach us how we must survive,
not how to trim the sail.
 Ego's given winds may blow,
but odysseys must end.
For quests beyond our human bounds,
Inferno may portend.
 Just when this sea of troubles weighed
too much on mortal coil,
the magic of encircling arms
became the perfect foil.
 So I reset the sails for home,
embracing Vesta's heart;
discovered Marais' secret strength:
in concert, ne’er apart.
 © 2013 John Anstie
All rights reserved.
 [Author's Note on this poem is here.]

©2020 John Anstie
All rights reserved

Author:

The focus of "The BeZine," a publication of The Bardo Group Beguines, is on sacred space (common ground) as it is expressed through the arts. Our work covers a range of topics: spirituality, life, death, personal experience, culture, current events, history, art, and photography and film. We share work here that is representative of universal human values however differently they might be expressed in our varied religions and cultures. We feel that our art and our Internet-facilitated social connection offer a means to see one another in our simple humanity, as brothers and sisters, and not as “other.” This is a space where we hope you’ll delight in learning how much you have in common with “other” peoples. We hope that your visits here will help you to love (respect) not fear. For more see our Info/Mission Statement Page.

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