Another tipping point. Another chance to listen to the prophetic voice of common sense. Will it be just a new year or a new world? We choose.

::::::::

Dear reader: This is not the original formatting of this poem, but it is the best I could manage given the options for spacing etc.

Black Butterfly - New year, new world

Ink blot

Black butterfly

Voice of the smallest

Hear them

?

Voices of

Dogs and parakeets

Hear the

Voices of trees, clouds

Forests, barns,

Houses, little bridges

(Listen to that little bridge

You just crossed

It is saying, Good

You made it )

Now the mountain

Is underneath us

Whispering, Climb me

I have something to show you

Hear the voice

Of the low clouds

The voice of the high clouds

They seem to be hurrying somewhere

And valleys

Murmur of cities, rivers

The fourth world

Is ending just like a day

2

The fifth world

Is a new day

We made it Imagine

(Another chance not to screw up)

But first

Let us hear

The joys and sorrows

Of the fourth world

Let us hear

From those who died

Before they knew they were alive

And those who came back to help

When the stars were falling

And the waves were rising

To meet each falling star

Let us hear from those

Who fear made small

They lived inside their own heads

Like hermit crabs in reverse

Moving into

Smaller and smaller shells

Let us hear from those who hid

From the thunder of duty to conscience

And from the booming

Of their own hearts

Let us hear from those

Who hid from life

And from the wisdom

Of common sense

Which kept whispering,

Stop poisoning your garden

Stop angering the weather

Stop living in landscapes that

Only want to burn

Stop almost everything you are doing

Until one day, common sense said,

Prepare for resurrection

!

When common sense

Shouts like a prophet into the wind

Then you know it's time

To put the old garden to bed

Let us hear from those

Who wandered

For many lifetimes

In the thick smoke of sorrows

And those who refused to work

Some shithole job

But bedded in their trucks

Under the stars

Beside the river

Falling asleep to the sound of cars

Listening to an owl

Calling to its mate

Now I am old now

But I used to be as young as you

I used to be younger than you

Now-now

We must be gentle with ourselves

Creation is tired

We are all tired

Because we are creation

We all need healing

Hush hush

The plants are singing

They are always singing

Just be ready when they ask for water

Be ready for the sound of water

The smallest sound of water

Plink plink

Be ready for time to slow

Stop pacing and thinking

Black butterfly stops

Stops and flattens like an ink blot

Now do you know this place

?

Recognize our relatives

All those living beings

Too many to count

Get ready

For a viable future

Decide to open

Meaning behind

But also ahead

Empty grateful space

Empty Ask them how

They are waiting patiently for you

To ask them how

How do we live in the fifth world

How do we live again?

How do we live

In any world

?

(Article changed on January 1, 2019 at 05:03)
(Article changed on January 2, 2019 at 13:18)

(Article changed on January 2, 2019 at 13:23)

(Article changed on January 2, 2019 at 21:34)

(Article changed on January 3, 2019 at 13:47)

Authors Website: https://garylindorff.wordpress.com

Authors Bio:

Gary Lindorff is a poet, writer, blogger and author of five nonfiction books, three collections of poetry, "Children to the Mountain", "The Last recurrent Dream" (Two Plum Press), "Conversations with Poetry (coauthored with Tom Cowan), and a memoir, "Finding Myself in Time: Facing the Music". Lindorff calls himself an activist poet, channeling his activism through poetic voice. He also writes with other voices in other poetic styles: ecstatic, experimental and performance and a new genre, sand-blasted poems where he randomly picks sentence fragments from books drawn from his library, lists them, divides them into stanzas and looks for patterns. Sand-blasted poems are meant to be performed aloud with musical accompaniment.


He is a practicing dream worker(with a strong, Jungian background) and a shamanic practitioner. His shamanic work is continually deepening his partnership with the land. This work can assume many forms, solo and communal, among them: prayer, vision questing, ritual sweating, and sharing stories by the fire. He is a born-pacifist and attempts to walk the path of non-violence believing that no war is necessary or inevitable.