As Augustine explained, no angel, good
or bad, creates. It's God alone who makes
these things from nothing, God alone who could
foresee what path our needy lives will take
and so provide the means for us to thrive,
a way for us to follow, and an end
for which the better parts of us may strive
while baser natures surely'd have us bend
our course towards the pleasures of the flesh
in hope that something new might come of sweat,
and have us work the void for something fresh.
Ever blind, ambition cannot heed the threat,
but even angels, good or bad, must see
that they, like all created things, must be.

Says Augustine,

Neither good
angels
nor bad
can create.

Is love the basis
of morality
or must we treat
even those we love
with decency?

After many years of being myself, I have reached a number of conclusions about what it means to be human. Since I hope to enjoy the company of humans for many years to come, I will keep them to myself.

Alt. take

She tells me how she feels
in Russian. Because
neither of us speaks Russian.

I have no language to tell her
what I know. So we make
do with sticks and stones.

Hand drill. Bow drill. Fire
plow. Hold the tinder
to the flint. Patience now.

She tells me that she loves me
in Russian. Because
neither of us speaks Russian.

I have no language to tell her
what I know. So we make
love with sticks and stones.

Hand drill. Bow drill. Fire
plow. Hold the tinder
to the flint. Patience now.

Look for the shadows,
she tells me.
There are no lines.
They're just edges
where things end.

Light, There

(After Richard Dawkins)

We are moving, always,
towards the light.
A million million years
some tender surface
in us sought the touch
without weight, a little
warmth, from above.
What little motor
drove us from the shadows
and stopped upon
the glow, a moving spot
we chased a million
million years before
we grew a cavity
within which we could
find our bearings?
Now the light we sought
was not just here
or not, but here
or there, and we could
find our place
long before we saw
the image of the sun.

_____
Cf. "A Tension in the Clearing"

All right, my heart, thrice
by-passed for living well,
let's see what you can do.
I opened you up and we took
the hill easily. You were my
courage and the center of my
strength. But soft you now,
a nymph on the horizon!
Will your graft hold, with
her in your arms? Let us see.
Let us see what you can do
with this old blood of ours.