12 February 2016

The first sound
of oars in water
mornings, Ah!

Emanating from them,
the brushing of peace
rising in the air;
the shrugging of oars pulling
on the water waking slowly
all the still world.

Here, the element
of water is kissed
by the solidity
of wood; here, the fire
of electricity from the friction
of opposites begun.

Then motion will turn to speed,
speed cutting the water
with its proud prow,
speed propelling the rowers
into the dimension
that knows no measure;

the Om of oars
sounding them
into the Infinite.

Philip Kuepper
(20 January 2016)