Robt - Poezja

Robt, 24 stycznia 2020

Sublimation

Water exists in a triple state:
          Solid, liquid, gas
At zero Celsius.

Even on the coldest day
Solid snow and ice quietly disappear
          Into gaseous vapor.

The radiant energy of the sun
          And time
Drive this transition
Until the solid ice is no more,
          Disappeared.
But no,
It still exists in the invisible vapor.

Do not we, aqueous beings
          -the waters of ancient seas
                   sloshing through our veins-
Exist at a triple point,

Slowly sublimating
Then suddenly gone,
Existing only in the hidden vapor
Of Time.

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Robt, 28 stycznia 2012

Little Bird

Little bird
Why did you
Pick
Pick
Pick
This age of anxiety
In which to
Pick
Pick
Pick?

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Robt, 28 stycznia 2012

Eclipse

Don’t look at the sun,
They said,
You’ll go blind.
But I did
And I am.
But
In that brief moment,
That glorious moment,
What I saw;
What I saw.

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Robt, 28 stycznia 2012

This journey

This life

This journey

Is a singular private event.
This life

This journey

Is traveled alone.
The path unknown, unblazed;
We may be fortunate enough to have someone
travel part of the way with us
Fortunate enough to share the amazement.
But otherwise,
alone.

This life

This journey

The path has never been trod before,
The destination unknown.
But we press on the best we can.
There is no stopping to ask directions.
We must rely on an inner compass
And signs along the way that we are headed in the right direction.
Making progress
For it is our journey alone

This Life.

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Robt, 12 grudnia 2011

Waiting

Waiting
for
the cold
in the ground
to retreat
from the waxing
days,
Waiting
for lonely strips
of snow at
road's edge
to surrender
to the insistent
sun,
Waiting
for cranes and crows
to
announce:
Spring is here.

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Robt, 12 grudnia 2011

Conversation with the Colorado

I
asked the river
Why
are you so dirty?
Because
I am working,
Came
its reply.
What
are you doing?
I am making something beautiful,
Answered
the river,

But
it takes time,
it takes time.

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Robt, 11 grudnia 2011

The Bear

The Bear

Moving
slowly through the woods,
I feel the Bear
Walking
Along the ridge to my side.

I
do not look at Him.
He
does not look at me.

But
I feel His eyes
And
He sees me.

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	Robt
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