The Rose, Pneumonia

At the end of a good day, all done with work, just a quick poem before I go home.

If you are pure, you fall in a different direction, not down to earth but toward God. I hesitate to say up. God is not up. In this frame, up is another form of down. Falling toward God is often invisible on the planet. You might experience it, and I would never notice unless I was really sensitive.

It is certain that God has divine gravity that draws one out, but it is really hard for a material body to respond. One has to free one’s soul and drift away. That’s a song :) Gimme the music that can free my soul, I wanna get lost in your rock and roll and drift away. That drifting is God’s gravity, and that song definitely reminds me of what happens to a pure soul with the body knots untied by love, forgiveness, compassion. I bet the double meaning was known to somebody involved in producing that music. It was too well done for that double meaning to be accidental.

The Rose

The petals of time
Open before dawn
In the world of God's high dreams.

That is where the rose appears
And calls the sun to come forth.

In sunrise petals
Drop one by one, freed
To fall to God and be pure.

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Here is another true story poem. When I was a small boy I was vicious sick with chronic lung disease. There were a few years I couldn't even take the stress of running, because just breathing hard would start an attack. This asthma was created by allergies. I had many allergies. But eventually it turned out that the keystone allergies were to certain foods. Primary was potatoes, which sounds strange to many people but is not that uncommon as a food allergy. What is uncommon is to have a doctor clever enough to find it. So I was eating potatoes as a staple food in my diet, and it was actually what I called my favorite vegetable. That constant ingesting of what is poisonous to me, depressed my immune system to other allergens.

Note to self: One real good reason not to go to jail, I can’t eat the effing food.

The story is too long and tedious. For the point of this poem, though, I knew about breathing difficulties as a very small child, and finally got some relief after the food allergy was discovered and finally desensitizing the other allergies worked. I was in my teen years then and this success lasted until just a few years ago when “old age” allergies began and gave me back my trouble in a different way, but still not good. Now I suffer from allergies to molds, mildews and fungi, which never bothered me even as a child.

Pneumonia

The pain in my chest
Staggers me, lays me down, out.
I get so tired now
Trying hard to breathe.
Sometimes I think I could stop,
Just quit, just like that.
You come in and check.
I know you're there but don't care.
You love me, I know.

I still want to live.