Playing Fair and Being Kind

MOMENTS OF SORROW

No Regrets

The genius in death,

Pours his heart,

Pours his life,

Onto the page,

He communicates,

He gives,

He really, really gives all,

We can feel genius,

We can hear genius,

Sweetness swirls in the depths of artfulness.

To live this long,

To come to a place filled to overflowing,

Til now we could not hear or wait,

Forthwith comes experience and wisdom,

Arriving fully dressed,

I listen and look,

I raise my senses, all of them to

Receive and honor,

Admire and be awed.

What else is there?

What have I missed?

The treasures signal an abundance,

What has not been revealed?

Cloaked, undetectable,

Remaining to be found,

Discovered, and enjoyed,

Left wondering, how many more?

Overjoyed and afraid at the discovery.

To observe each day anew,

A piece authored by genius,

To listen, to put aside prejudice,

Seeing, smelling, and tasting for first time,

That which was ignored or discarded,

Bukowski’s “Bluebird”,

Monet’s lilies and Eakins’ rowers,

Whistler’s “Battersea Reach”,

Stevie Ray Vaughan’s “Pride and Joy”!

Where was I and what was I doing,

A tragedy to miss the wonders,

The existence of beauty, sound,

Smell and taste,

The inexperience of youth kept me in darkness,

Muffled, blind, dumb, soundless,

In time, with help and encouragement,

With lessons; to knowledge; to wisdom,

Before the shade passes I’ve become whole.

G. M. Goodwin

30 September 2016