Yet One Clearing: A Late Preference

new poem

I think that you are right to wonder why

the view from where you sit

is so often made obscure by the odd,

-

exhaust- and coal-laced chiaroscuro

now darkening nearly

every prospect, every aspect save those

-

clear, interior vistas one beholds

in the very midst of

one’s slow noetic descent seeking yet

-

to bind one’s wits with one’s unspeakable

longing, deepest desire.

Stillness has afforded yet one clearing

-

in which I might briefly behold something

of what I have long sought.

Thought—as you must know—is overrated,

-

often ill-informed and sore misleading.

Of late, I’ve given up

on thought, preferring to still my wits,

-

preferring to sink those wits within such

still waters as I have

lately found to be my sole, trustworthy light.