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The following is more of a thought exercise than a poem. It began with curiosity and my long-standing aversion to the concept of critical thinking—more specifically, the idea that critical thinking renders the thinker superior. Faith-based thinking is dangerously prone to the same outcome. Even I can figure out the common denominator. I wrote this piece before looking up the word “posit” and rather like that Poseidon precedes it.
If, in Paradise, we’re going to be happy forever
and forever equals infinite; by extension, now
and then—All Time—I might as well be happy now.

If prosperity and peace are guaranteed
in Paradise, then in this moment, I might as well
be prosperous, successful, and serene.

Premise is as premise does:
thought to word and word to deed.

Here is something that I’ve noticed.
Just before my thought that thinks
and long before my word that speaks,
a spectre known as feeling rises;
energy in motion prises
bringing every colour with it
fully spectral, without limit.

But not in crashing, awful waves,
thank God, though sometimes, yes,
things overwhelm. There seems to be
some kind of bridge, a one-way
multi-coloured bridge that joins
the realm of pure emotion
to my cells so like the ocean
in their current, waves, and tides.

On this bridge I see sometimes
that there resides a permanent
interpreter, poetic, wise like Homer,
blind, an ageless, ancient arbiter
whose task by law is simple,
instant, universal, matching what
I say and do to all that powers
through me, new and flawless
as the dew manifesting or creating
everything that I believe—
as true.


Knowing over there and here
are Paradise, and seeing every
wish, belief, intensive thought
I hold as dear, interpreted
while I sit here, I posit
there is nothing more
I need to do than pen
these words with tenderness
and feel my love for you…

for such is Paradise.


© Elaine Stirling, 2015