In Finite Terms Poem by Jonathan ROBIN

Eternity in sand grain signed
spans time in rhyme that, here, needs bind
through more than ten score lines assigned
to blossom fair [h]our prose aligned.
Perceptions springing from the mind
leave toils and troubles far behind,
discover karmic scope designed
to open vistas well inclined.
Societal design supposes
though Earth is not a bed of roses
adaptation interposes
evolving fixed-line blind proposes,
to steer change, range beyond laws Moses
exposed. Insight metamorphoses
closed-mind comfort zone life shows is
mirage mirror. All transposes.

Wide world, or vision narrow held
as crutch confronting harsh fate knelled,
too often interface is held
to preconceptions neatly spelled.
Perception cannot be compelled
to toe the line, fine print upheld,
must seek holistic outlines, meld
both seen, unseen, from naught withheld.

Yet few dare challenge paradox,
or view life from outside cant box,
and many fear, when door unlocks,
free choice, will shiver in their socks,
when faced with options seen as blocks,
complain about their starting-blocks,
call into question how life's clocks
seem overtime to run hard knocks.

Without self-knowledge who can judge
events, relationships, and budge
responding not reacting, sludge
discard, draw trumps, yet not begrudge
chance dance elsewhere, who need a nudge
to measure, pleasure, not prejudge
each unexpected, sundry smudge.

Self-confidence prerequisite
remains permitting cap to fit
while blinker free and insight lit
must motives meld both sense and wit.
Care not for sects too tightly knit,
which come with some predestined kit
to offer strictures roast on spit
which turns around redemption's writ.

When life’s tick tock flicks clock’s hands by
when fête holds sway old Time must fly
“and not a cloud obscures the sky”
why worry, pleasure now deny?
For joys tomorrow soul soars high.
True, some are smitten, springs run dry.
Too few heed inner warning cry,
to mist dimissed, wave Time goodbye.

Fate may be written, it may lie -
behind the veil is passing sigh,
more is assumed in store so why
seek answers which no gold can buy.
For, if there’s more, hope cannot die,
if nothing, then why worry, high
and low in turn their fate defy,
then wave forgot sink twixt sea, sky.

Life’s transience, quite underrated,
too rarely seems appreciated
as if the spirits, once elated,
could keep their t[h]rust unmitigated.
What lies beyond the tombstone dated
has never been elucidated,
though many have prevaricated
redemption offer unabated.

Yet dances led, with lead un-weighted,
quickstep through life, Death un-awaited.
Why worry if the dice are weighted
with finite term anticipated?
Perception closely seems related
to actions oft anticipated
by intuition which, un-sated,
seeks 'more' before true [s]core is stated.

When Time speeds up and hell-for-leather
is pressured onwards, storm tossed feather.
how drear each day to wonder whether
tomorrow’s game we’ll play together!
Ignored too often altogether
are ice-burst pipes in balmy weather,
or sacrificial goat on tether,
when life’s free run on hill, vale, heather.

Dim is victim’s prescience
despite disaster’s imminence,
secure perception complements
self-satisfaction’s arguments.
Men draw some sense of permanence
from self-supporting evidence
behind life’s surface comforts whence
so much is pawned, save diffidence.

Life’s patterns in advance may churn
a warning aura we discern
through experience, concern.
Here causal links respect must earn
before anxieties return
to haunt, to taunt, or bridges burn.
Life’s patterns in advance few turn
to true advantage - all peace yearn.
Unwise who’ll sapless, saphead, spurn
the hints that candles one can’t burn
at both ends long. Yet each must learn
alone wheels turn. Urn soon we earn.

How much of man’s self-confidence
is self-sustaining self-defence -
a mechanism fear prevents
although at prudence's expense.
The coin cards of coincidence,
that noise to others represents,
turn to advantage, making sense
of elements which signs dispense
to seed the sentiment events
may be controlled as ‘whither’ ‘whence’
seem linked by dream intelligence
that lasts although we’re hurried hence.

When cloud-free shines dawn's morning star
life’s rose glows gold, presumes too far,
as if no shadow near or far
could compromise success, could jar,
or ever dowse life’s vital fire,
as if, once launched, the poet’s lyre
could chant forever and inspire,
nor bore nor jaw resentful ire.

Pride heeds temptation's siren call
till morn when free flight spins free fall.
That day each lesson learns: - that small
sweet seems to gleam when night threats all.
Perceptive insight should withal
ignore snobs, mob's pedestrian brawl,
innately find the wherewithal
to scribble, scrawl transcend, soothe squall.

Then narrow the circumference
of independence seems, intense
the pressure, the predicaments,
when arguments can't influence,
invalidate or overturn,
decisions others would confirm,
when former freedoms won't return
to light horizons dim and tern.

Those who rely on providence
often discover at their expense
that everlasting affluence
rhymes rarely with experience.
There is no ‘Ave’ no ‘Marie’,
no Eden for eternity.
Perjured who would guarantee
etern_I_[t]ease in hour[I] spree.

There is no golden throne and grand
when falls life’s last coarse grain of sand
[the spectre of reign’s written hand
of course reins in aims out of hand].
There’s no white rabbit, magic hat,
no second innings where the bat
defies Time’s ball. When that is that!
dreams of karmic streams fall flat.

When Fate’s hand, tricked and trumped, turns black
dark Present weighs, no turning back
to glories past. When cares attack
fair opportunities all lack.
Reflect! Each given day completed
is stay of execution greeted
before fell final judgement meted
when hope for fair appeal’s defeated.
Reflect! What future radiance shines
For anyone beyond life’s lines?
Enjoy today! The Present signs
itself, as Cause Effect aligns.

Perception balance interjects
between life's toil and trouble wrecks,
and wishful thinking, thus respects
both fear and fancy, trust elects,
reality and dreams connects,
defensive phalanx e'er rejects,
creating vision true, inspects
both fact and fiction circumspect.

How the above our verse affects
to stay on course, spurn side-effects
distracting which plain truth neglects
stems from internal balance, checks,
soul-song which laziness deflects
to order thought that naught infects.
Creative wells leave most perplex,
write which 'mots justes' with ease selects.

One could expound till time and tide
see mankind taken for a ride.
Let this short essay thus abide
as introduction to provide
an insight into vision tied
to sentiments that coincide
with heart's intelligence allied
unto vocabulary wide.

(2 January 2012)