The Cepia Club Blog

The Cepia Club Blog: The Cepia Club believes individual awareness and activism can lead to a peaceful and prosperous world. This blog contains the pertinent literature, both creative and non-fiction, produced by the Cepiaclub Director and its associates.

Monday, June 15, 2015


By: Pi Kielty
Found: June 15, 2015

For: The woman who said,“Listen to what the world tries telling you.”

A gaping gap through the ground, a million years, with rippling sound. The river flows the bedded rung, ripped soil remains uphung—brown, orange, yellow, red and coal—on canyon walls, so tall and grand; I listen for the voice and stand. The world speaks some things this day, as I opened mindful ears, I stay. Changing depths this rivers way, I look down, as this selfish king doffs his crown. The land once level, where I stare at clay, the aging eating its forceful way. All things do change, as no-thing lasts, my overwhelmed, I eyed god's work of past. My own timed future feared not known, I'll die this faith for a new man born. I resemble much this beauty's source, the scarred sore, worked through countless scores, the remnant canyon through its course. It lost itself, once, perhaps, in worn self-scorn, felt ugly, unloved and unneeded, now majestic pure form. It crags so far, its un-envied wound, once deep, now its sharing, a loving grasped, I wish to me that growth could last. On I look to other layer rings, the life healing, my lesson that scarring brings. My minded thoughts of selfish things now a grateful aging, saging, the canyon voice sings. The hard rewards, of living changed, leaves admiration beyond the gods' graves. Take thyself, for what others see. A good beauty for scars not mourned, with happy truth this view, this early old canyon morn'.


Post a Comment

Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]

<< Home