Poem By Rod Mendieta

Mind… the creator,
Mind… the Sorcerer's Apprentice.

Finally it's all become clear.
They laid my harried body in a flowery grave,
The long sleep ensuing,
Then to wake in a wondrous edifice
Of impossible architecture
(Spires and turrets tapering the wrong way,
Ascending steps leading to dungeons,
Downward sloping ramps to sky vistas)
To be reminded, every day of my life
Of Rumi's lucid verse:
‘Humanity is the origin of the world'.
Always did I credit the age-old axiom
With the inverted premise
As being the truth, but now… perhaps
Man does not spring from the world
But instead the world, reality,
This one reality and all realities
Likely and unlikely, nebulous and distinct,
Personal and collective,
Angelical and demonic,
Spring from man.
Yes, it's all become clear.
The mystic poet said it seven centuries ago,
But I've no one to share
My realization with.
I thought nothing of spending my life in fascination
Of the material achievements of civilization
Of the myriad mechanical wonders
And all triumphs of the intellect,
Very often shunning the company of those
Desiring a comforting word,
Or that precious modicum
Of idle conversation to rebuff the
Persistent ghost of loneliness
Ever haunting dejected lives.
Now I wander through lavish halls
Adorned with stunning frescoes
Admiring the infinite display of clever
Mechanical contraptions in perpetual motion,
The intricate clockwork of polished brass
Clicking to perfection,
Fanciful models of solar systems
With orbiting planets and tiny moons,
Miniature cogwheels turning in unison,
Levers tweaking, pendulums swaying,
Silver balls rolling down smart little ramps
Then upwards again by the pull of a chain,
Automata making haunting music,
Mechanical dancers, whirling dervishes,
Clowns, beasts from imaginary forests
Performing impossible feats of athletic prowess,
My amazement only increasing as I walk
From room to room in this wondrous edifice,
A seemingly endless succession of vast halls
With precious amethyst flooring
And carved-wood ceilings,
And all those people entranced
Staring, eyes wide open
With the fascination of little children
Completely oblivious to my attempts
To share my wonderment with them.

Mind… the creator,
Mind… the Sorcerer's Apprentice.

I walk aimlessly tugging at other people's sleeves
Longing for a faint glint of recognition in their eyes,
For the warm touch of a hand,
For a friendly word,
But everyone is lost in their own enthrallment,
Spellbound in contemplation
Of this ocean of clever toys.
Here all the wonders of the world
For the delight of the intellect…
But where, oh where, a hint of a smile?
Where, oh where, is there love here?

Comments about Finally

Yes I have to agree with Stu a little gem here. Annette.
Rod, hope your well, Your poem has tugged at my sleeve, thought I'd Nick that line, hope it's not copyrighted, and I get sued lol Anyway another gem from your pen, again Best regards Stu

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Other poems of MENDIETA

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Sitting well away from the busy shoal
Right on the pond's mossy bed.
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Laden with the ripe fruits of emotion,
The lustrous layers of your longing.
One should only very carefully tread

Airy Dogma

A word of caution, my friend
For it pains me so to see you
Raising castles with flimsy sticks
And fanning the flames of hope

The Island Of Your Smile

Oh, indeed it'd easier to abdicate
And walk out into exile in a cove of silence
Than to raise a bridge of words
And steal over the ocean of your indifference.

Her Kisses Drink Me Up Slowly

Her kisses drink me up slowly
Her mouth sipping keenly
Then playfully holding back,
Her moist lips thirsting,

Gratitude To A Black Bird

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Croaking a dissonant note amidst
So many Nightingales
Are you aware of my gaze?