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A Chant Royal

This day is fresh, you’re born anew, so fling
toward life that lies ahead, awaiting you
with eager arms. Forget the former things
you’ve said and done; there is no cause to stew
unless it’s in a pot with parsnips and
potatoes. Ask no one to understand:
they will or won’t. So what? To wait upon
the maudlin thoughts of others who are gone
into their private mental shacks to sigh
suspends you, and you think you’re all alone.
Let go your futile need to justify.

The nihilist likes to deny; he’ll bring
you to the brink for fun, and when he’s through
he’ll find some other joy to smash. To wing
the speed of life allows you might be blue
now and again, but only so you’ll stand
a little taller, join a brighter band
of light. We’re rainbow’s children, all. The sun
adores and fries us equally. Such fun!
The lonely hearts’ club, darling, is a lie.
Its membership is minus one, plus one.
Let go your futile need to justify.

The pessimist, now there’s a gem! Her ring
of murky moods will smother and undo,
and only then can you be friends. She’ll sing
of pain so beautifully, you’ll think you knew
her deepest needs and plunge you will, a grand
and eloquent swan dive into quicksand.
Once there, you’ll think, such poetry! My wan
and feeble soul laments like Babylon…
Whoo-hoo! The tower fell quite horribly.
Our physics has improved since then, my son.
Let go your futile need to justify.

Neutrality does not exist. That sting
you feel is welcome overstayed. Be true
to those who, when you think of them, can spring
new thoughts of hope and happiness. Imbue
the rest with godhead pre-imagined. Land
on higher ground by choice, and you’ll expand
just like the Universe. It’s all been done
in quantum dance, employed by everyone.
There is no debt, no limits to the pi
we slice. The dice will never come up un-.
Let go your futile need to justify.

The optimist, you are the one with bling
who shines in dark and light. That thing
you do of seeing best, best imitates, ringing
in Creation’s frequencies. Ballyhoo
it might appear to sorry sacks, their bland
retreat and you are not a pair, aband-
on them! You’re under no one else’s gun.
Continue with the capers you’ve begun.
No need to catalogue or prove. Supply
yourself with what uplifts. The past’s undone.
Let go your futile need to justify.

Futility will always seem to some
insurance against falls like Humpty-Dumb.
So let them have their way with gravity,
zigzagging from “I hope so” back to glum.
Let go your futile need to justify.


© Elaine Stirling, 2014
Image from http://www.photobucket.com