Wild Ideas

Why is it that a leaf resembles a burst of energy,
A tree, the collective flickering of a candle’s flame,
A blade of grass, the flash of a spark,
The flourish of a falling star?
Why does a volcano look
Like the power and energy
From Above pouring into the world below?
Why does rock feel solid
In its cooled state,
As if the steady energy
That runs through the Universe,
Turned into matter, to stand upon,
Were the most stable and steady thing of all?
Why was there nothing to fear of the waves
That tossed the boat upon the Sea of Galilee?
How did one man, a simple teacher
Of nothing in particular,
A gifted amateur,
Have the light within
To give to all?

Why does the butterfly resemble the leaf,
The walking stick, the twig?
The fish have their shapes too,
Suspiciously like something of physics,
A body of flame, a tail of heat,
To say nothing of a starfish
Or the octopus,
The dragonfly’s spin, the cricket’s leap.
The energy behind all
Is cut into patterns when it turns
To worldly matter, created to form.
Not from within, as in DNA, which merely apes,
But without, by choice of the fiery
Dancing source coming through a window
To leave a living shadow of its inner mystery.
We too were cut from some pattern,
Like a fearful symmetry,
But in the form,
For example,
Of the fallen leaf, the tree,
The blade of grass, the rock,
And also of the simple unselfish teacher
Who pointed out the way the world works,
Shining, through simple homily.