Wednesday, February 11, 2015

What know you not…?

     What know ye not? - Is it, “How can an ant be so wise?”
     Or is your real question, “Who am I and why am I here?”

“Go to the ant, thou sluggard;
consider her ways, and be wise.”
And, “How long wilt thou sleep, O sluggard?
When wilt thou arise out of thy sleep?
Yet a little sleep, a little slumber,
a little folding of the hands to sleep;
so shall thy poverty come as one that
travelleth, and thy want as an armed man.”+

And so it is for hands that fold for naught.
In my youth, mom always told me, “You better get ready son,
because eternity waits for no one. - Life’s but a moment.”
Taught of her I knew this, “Forsake not the law of thy mother:
bind them continually upon thine heart, and
tie them about thy neck,” if she be righteous.+

So I always have, never forgetting her diligence.
None who approached her falsely had any quarter.
None who approached her truly had a problem.
Any who did not approach, knowing, always fell.
And I am her legacy, twelfth of thirteen,

the only one of whom could receive her teaching.
No sonograms then, she knew I was male in the womb,
listening ever so closely, intently, in our quiet,
our quiet together among many, many moments together,
then. - And in her matrix of deep nuture I flourished.

You know the rest, but this, too, needed the telling.

--RK, 11:43pmEST, 2/10/2015

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