Tuesday, December 14, 2004
In This Very Spot
In this Very Spot
Where, I ask you,
is the Formula
for Everything?
The one we have been searching for
so long in vain?
Some say it is hidden
in the spiraling foam
of the ocean’s dark cave,
its turbulent groans.
Some say it is nailed to the razored crest
of the unscalable
mountain,
the one often pictured
in paintings and bronze,
where so many have fallen.
Others claim it is carried in the beak
of the bird of wild plumage,
green and gold flashing
as it ascends into light.
If you are looking for it,
pause now.
Cease gazing so frantically
everywhere all around.
Throw away your map,
forget your guide.
It is neither to right
nor left,
not up
nor down.
It is here,
just here,
in this very spot
where you stand,
waiting for you to look within, and see.
copyright, Dorothy Walters
December 14, 2004
Where, I ask you,
is the Formula
for Everything?
The one we have been searching for
so long in vain?
Some say it is hidden
in the spiraling foam
of the ocean’s dark cave,
its turbulent groans.
Some say it is nailed to the razored crest
of the unscalable
mountain,
the one often pictured
in paintings and bronze,
where so many have fallen.
Others claim it is carried in the beak
of the bird of wild plumage,
green and gold flashing
as it ascends into light.
If you are looking for it,
pause now.
Cease gazing so frantically
everywhere all around.
Throw away your map,
forget your guide.
It is neither to right
nor left,
not up
nor down.
It is here,
just here,
in this very spot
where you stand,
waiting for you to look within, and see.
copyright, Dorothy Walters
December 14, 2004
