Universe
Passing
Click for meditationRegarding "Passing"
We often never know why
We meet someone, especially if the
Encounter was for what turned out to be
A literal second … Sometimes the
Meeting evolves into lasting
A lifetime, sometimes far less or
Seemingly not at all …
This is a mystery, and in
My opinion is related to the
Pilgrim’s path which we are all on.
We sometimes will
Never know why someone
Crossed our path,
While other times it will
Seem very self-evident. In
All cases, however, whomever
We have met in life, at
That fleeting second we have
Breathed the same air
With them, and the
Interaction imperceptibly
Affected the path we
And they were on. For a good
Part of my life I was oblivious to this.
Now, every time I walk into
Dunkin’ Donuts or a food store
Or some pharmacy or pull
Over into a service station for
Gasoline, I am much more aware of
My surroundings. Invariably,
There is someone I exchange a
Smile with, nod at, or
Have a brief conversation
With. I am there for them.
They are there for me.
And then we part, sometimes
Like a shooting star, sometimes
Like a floating, beautiful
Monarch butterfly.
Leo Carroll
January 22, 2019
I tried to
Think of a poem to
Send you, but my mind got lost in
Rolling banks of sentimental mist … and
So all I am able is to forward you
My very best wishes
Forever upon a sister star, as our
Galaxies now shriek past one
Another on polar-opposite paths, streaking
From that brief interlude where we
Once stood a sweet beach, but now due to the
Physics of warp speed —
So strangely afar.
Primeval
Click for meditationRegarding "Primeval"
In the great 1969 movie,
“Paint Your Wagon,”
Which is about the wild and
Crazy California gold rush
Of 1849, there is the
Fabulous song, “They Call
The Wind Mariah.” The
Lyrics are powerful, but yet
Hauntingly lonely, and they set
The framework and tempo
For the screenplay starring
Lee Marvin, Clint Eastwood,
And Jean Seberg. It was
A rough, tumultuous
Crossing in 1849 to reach
California, and once there
It was equally rough
And tumultuous to survive.
In the movie, the wind and the
Music were always in the
Background as if they were
Part of the cast. It struck
Me how primeval the wind
Was portrayed, and ever
Since, in any storm, I always
Will look up at the tops
Of trees and “call the
Wind Mariah,” as if
Addressing a supernatural
Force, one that comes
From and simultaneously
Represents Creation,
And wields the contradictory
Attributes of incredible
Power, terror, and the
Magnificent fist of Yahweh
Spreading love and hope and
Beauty upon the land …
Leo Carroll
January 15, 2019
Up my eyes strain to the tops of
Their spires, feeling from out of my primal past
What I cannot begin to plumb nor
Describe. Bend and moan they
Do, to the roar of wind howling
From out of the womb of the universe,
Right here, right now, this place,
This hope, this cave mouth, this new
Millennium, this old ice age, with the same
Shudder, the same words, the
Same stab of terror, and then
Tomorrow, the same sunrise chorus.
Gospel of John 1: 1-3
Click for meditationRegarding "Gospel of John 1: 1-3"
The concept of
Creation still lies beyond the grasp
Of all human understanding.
All scientific efforts to
Satisfactorily explain how
Creation happened still languish
Behind the door of a
Limited ability to peer
Into the moments before the
Roar of the “Big Bang.”
Every time something is
Discovered, or an inroad is
Made peeking through
The keyhole of what appears a
Physics mystery, something
Further then looms as needing to be
Explained or understood …
Mankind’s brain falters before
The throne of incomplete
Knowledge. All cultures, past
And present, have tried
To make sense of
Creation as seen by an
Examination of old oral traditions
And ancient texts, and
Modern efforts are now
Seen taking form in the
Starship of the world’s largest
Particle collider, the Hadron
Collider, on the Swiss/French border.
Yet, we still don’t truly
Know, on a cosmic scale,
Much of anything … That is
Why faith still perseveres
As a salve upon the
Overwhelmed neurons
Of our brains.
Leo Carroll
January 19, 2019
The spoken Word which
Created the universe, the Word
We bow in wonder before
But cannot spell, the
Word whose feet we washed
In perfume, the Word
Who with us in the Upper
Room dwelt, the Word we can
Neither say nor hear, the
Word in Gethsemane
Who while we slept knelt,
That Word I don’t understand,
But that Word reached down
And became my brother,
Through an uncommonly
Blessed woman in the straw of
The stable of Man.