Monday, March 09, 2015

baseball sun

a Goliath of a world,
a David of a soul,
born to kill and whither,
born to love and grow,

one must be nothing,
for one to be everything,
and when you are everything, 
you will know that it is nothing,

God is everything,
God is nothing,
God is both,
God is neither

sometimes I'm many,
sometimes I'm one,
sometimes I've gone beyond,
orbiting a baseball sun,

the plate is our life,
we stand alone,
did you know?
we will be alone when we go,

so stand relaxed at the plate,
while we orbit the baseball sun,
when you relax you get hits,
you might just get a home run.


Brother Ollie said...

Some more of the dharma bruh. Play Ball!

Square Corner said...

Boyhood and baseball. Brings me so far back in time. To when the summer noon day sun never seemed to set. The crack of the bat, the dust in my eyes, the ball secure in my mitt. I was going to be a baseball star, for sure. Love the poem.

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