28 May 2016

Into the bright firery
path of the star,
path far
from all that is
earth familiar,
my mind is drawn.

There my thoughts
float free of all
association, my mind
a slate receptive
to Spirit script
written with the star’s light.

Into my scull Spirit climbs.
We row the higher race,
atmosphere, the body
of water we row.
Our oars are the stuff
of constellations, our oars
shepherded by the Herdsman
holding high the lantern,
while he helps keep safe the Bear
from being baited by the Dog Star.
(How complex the Heavens!)

It is this Spirit
that invests the arms
of earthly rowers,
arms, Spirit-pumped,
arms become one
with the act of rowing.

Philip Kuepper
(12 April 2016)