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The New Life Second Stage For Marie

Rating: 5.0
I have asked the wisest
men and women
about these small things.
Some stare me down,
without so much as the courtesy
of a 'fare-thee-well'
and good-bye. Others look
extremely hurt,
zero in on me. Confused,
I withdraw.

Only one of these seers
treated me as an equal,
a man in his early forties
who spoke of the romance
of the rails, who still
bounded on the moving train
in St. Paul and rode all the way
to Portland. I'm not sure
what lesson he was meant to teach
me, unless it was just the good will
he conveyed, the hope he engendered.

One Sunday in June, I crossed
paths with MONICA, a young seer
in a bright yellow summer dress,
in a garden in Golden Valley
I had never before entered.
Before I could speak, she said,
'You're not ready for the small
things, much less the Cascade
of Light. Here, read this. Begin
now! ' She handed me a manuscript
that was handwritten, the cover
page was beautifully inscribed,
'The Book of the Sun' by Marsilio
Ficino. 'I know this, I've read
this, ' I responded excitedly.
'No you have not. You only
acquired your eyes today.' Her
face was beautiful and stern.
'Read it. We will meet again.'
And then there was only yellow
light where she had just stood
in her summer loveliness. I was
bereft, but in my hands was the
'The Book of the Sun'. I sat
down on a bench by a fountain,
and commenced reading with my
new eyes in my new life...
Deep within, I heard Monica's
voice, now sweet and gentle,
'Don't stare at my face, Daniel.
Look deeply within. Poetry is
not the surface of things, it
is.... '
Monday, August 25, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: Fantasy
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COMMENTS
Richard Wlodarski 23 September 2018
Daniel, this is a fascinating series in which you seem to be blending fantasy with reality. And you're really educating me. I'll have to do some research on Ficino. He seemed to be a very fascinating person.
1 0 Reply
Bharati Nayak 22 November 2016
And then there was only yellow light where she had just stood in her summer loveliness. I was bereft, but in my hands was the 'The Book of the Sun'. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Don't stare at my face, Daniel. Look deeply within. Poetry is not the surface of things, it is.... ' - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Your poems carry the deep impressions of your insight.
1 0 Reply
Simone Inez Harriman 31 October 2015
Sigh.....just beautiful Daniel. Poetry is deep, personal and unique journey as we evolve spiritually. I love this poem.
2 0 Reply
Liza Sudina 18 October 2015
The Book of the Sun' by Marsilio Ficino. - I didn't read it. will try to find! yellow light - again. It means smth special to you!
0 0 Reply

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