A Sage and His Son

Mitchell Duran

It’s always easier to tear down the highest wall,
To take the clay from under the supports,
Ripping apart souls who have worked their entire lives
Like cotton from a teddy bear,
Counting everything as nothing.

In tides of great pain and of Great War,
The stars still shine brightest,
Hanging in the heavens like icicles along the rafters,
Like rain clinging to thin leaf about bear branch.

When mountains tremble by the sight of man,
We have gone too far.
When explosions can be heard full-circle around the world,
We must ask ourselves: why do we wish to instill fear?

Oceans exhale with clarity.
Myself eludes itself,
Deep with chilling disparity.
I’ve yet to prove to that I am human.
My absence overwhelms my life.

Sweet gale of the Redwood forests
Tranquil eyes of the auburn hawks in the sky
Sincere Pine trees of the North
Let injustice force you to come forth.

There is always a good fight to be fought
Blood, if we possess it, will always be shed for the necessary.
I’ve made my amends with that.
Trust and respect are the only cures
For man’s need for barbarity.

Here I take two steps forward
And ten steps back.
Cracking open my perception to time and history.
Allowing for my soul and all souls before me
To come with me and see
That time is infinite,
With or without us.
That we in life hold the power
Of our continuation.

A sage took his son for a walk
The sun was high in the sky
While birds soared below the clouds
The sage looked down on his son
Proud to have brought life upon the land

He imagined himself a tree
His son an acorn
Then he imagined his son as pollen
And destiny being the bee
Who would one day carry him away
To a place that would be his son’s future
He then imagined that all things in this world
Are so desperately similar
That to destroy anything or anyone
Would be destroying only a part of oneself

The river runs like our blood does
The earth rumbles much like our stomachs
A volcano explodes much like our hearts do in love
And our bodies turn to dust
Like the ash from a tree enflamed turned to embers.

We are:
Like the flower
Like the rock
Like the whale washed up on the beach
Like firsts lights reach.

The sage and his son
Sat upon the edge of the mountain
And observed mad spinning life

The sage with his son
Thought not about God
Thought not about Mother Nature
Thought not about man’s need for conjuring reason
The sage with his son simply sat and watched

And
As the sun dropped behind the end of the World,
He imagined himself as a clam
And his son
A shining pearl.

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