The Art of Being

I've loved poetry from when I was a small child and Mom read Mother Goose Nursery Rhymes to us. There was just something about their cadence - the rhythmic sequence of sounds. Later, in school, a teacher showed us how to read a poem and look for the meaning behind the words. 

I always wished I could be a poet, but my efforts of rhyming words and understanding meter fell far short. Then, in my late twenties, I learned about free verse. Yesterday I found some of my poems in an old journal. This one I wrote almost exactly forty-seven years ago, January 16, 1973.

               The Art of Being

Be still. 

Quiet. Stop the racing mind and

Pacing feet.

Don't think for moments.

Give yourself back to YOU.

Troubling it out

Won't help,

Just confuse.

Let peace and quiet

Creep back in.

Then, THEN, you will 

Be able to understand

What it is. What to do.

Quiet, peace, 

Being,

Transcend.

I find, now, that most days,  I can do that - let peace and quiet creep in. But for those days it doesn't work, I return to what always has - I read poetry.