0020 Bliss

After that first photo-flash in mind
that signalled that there beyond where, might be
a poem waiting to be formed;
and there followed, that strange mixture in the mind
of awe, surrender, thrill, and wonderment;
and as the mind, now as obedient servant
beyond the asking, brought the building stuff
for this new, strange construction (though not, I noted,
in the order that these would be used) –

after all this, and the poem now on paper,
I walked to the front door; and stood; and looked;
looked like a child looks, and expects to look,
seeing the world as gift; as ever fresh;
no thought, no wish, the mind drained, grateful, of all thought
except the awareness of just – being allowed to be –
as the impressions flooded in, the senses sensed,
watched, as all the – all – passed through
without a judgment needed, made;

and that portion of my mind
now free to think or not to think,
superb in that peace that comes with freedom,
made the connection which
was not intellect, but knowledge –
pure knowledge which was
almost silent, wordless worship of that 'that'
which is beyond name and form, yet known -

'this, this, is bliss itself; this present self is bliss'.

poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!