Today it was raining. That kind of soft, steady rain that seems more Irish than Central Californian. I found a little college campus area cafe that only had one other customer and really good coffee and decided to sit a while and draw. I didn’t expect to finish anything, and I certainly did not expect to write a poem. I have never been much of a poet. I wrote a little poetry in high school as most tragic pre-emos did, but not since then. I was thinking a lot about how the unknown is actually comforting to me. How some people feel the need to create an answer to difficult questions when no rational explanation can be found. I have always felt differently. I find the unknown comforting. For me, the idea that we are all connected to everything and actually part of the Earth’s evolutional process is more comforting than the idea that a deity hiccuped us into existence. I was also thinking (loosely and randomly) about the ego of the learning process and how losing that ego is really the only way to learn. Two hours later, I had a pen and ink drawing and poem down. An hour and a half of coloring and I had this…
The words brightly landed on my lap
trembling for purpose and reason
but no help could I give
for they were strange charmed quarks
stars of a nature I cannot comprehend;
I opened my hands – fingertips
untwining like vines
to embrace what I did not know
my soil fertile and waiting-
a seed planted firmly and fast
nourished by empty space and stars
that shivered with joy at it’s presence.
The answers I once thought I had
proved not enough and the seed grew
and flowered roughly – taking root
in the field of gray and blue;
colors I once believed alien and empty
now spread open, gradient and swirling,
arms like a galaxy – reaching for me.
A surprising comfort, this newness
complete and vast-
I welcome the path outward.