OPULENCE

The haphazard search
of my youth
led me to many educational places
including
that verdant rolling campus
I came to on a Sunday afternoon.

There, atop a hill
a band played on an electric stage
while young folk sprawled all over the lawn
in carefully-ripped designer jeans.
Bottles passed from hand to hand.
Lips ravished a pig roasted on a spit.

I responded to the scene with this one word:

“Opulence”

and maybe because I’d walked all day
or maybe because highs 
are indeed contagious
I soon became thick dizzy sluggish
and slumped to the ground.

But despite my dimness
as I lay there, I could sense
a tired malaise
pervading the festivities.
What could be the cause?

Why didn’t we shimmy with the breezy trees?
Or flow with the glowing clouds?
The big beat did not move us. 

As children, we’d loved
the winking wings of butterflies.
But now we only liked.

Perhaps we’d let our life of abundance
numb us.
In just a short time we’d taken in so much.
Too much.  Much too much.

Shocked awake by the thought
I feared for my life.
Fighting fatigue, I stood
and wobbled back down the hill.

Yes, I learned a lesson that day.
Nonetheless
in this land of excess
I usually forget 
to savor life in small sips.

But when I stop
and actually feel what I touch
hear what I hear
see what I see
and taste what I taste—

when I become aware
of what I’m taking in
and in so doing, deepen
my experience of life…

I feel a little scared

because then this world
and myself in it
seem so strange.

At such moments
I feel alive in body and spirit.
And know true opulence.

Opulence

I claim to be a novelist, poet, essayist, cartoonist, graphic artist, peace monger--and I'm trying to be a world citizen. As for my backstory...let's just say I've lived and worked all over the United States.  I'm self-taught, for the most part, which is like stumbling around blindfolded while looking for the right door.  It's an on-going process. Lacking any true musical ability, I try to make music with language, while also making meaning.  

Opulence

mythsteps