Discernment is the key to the Universe.
It allows going forward, sideways, in circles, or in reverse.
It brings all the things you’ve ever known,
and all the things you’ve embraced as your own,
to play with, waylay with, and create what you intone.
The gift of speech can be oh-so human when properly used;
but do not mistake those who cannot speak to be thought of as fools.
For speech is myriad in itself ~
it includes gestures, blinks, and what’s felt --
the only matter is the emotion that comes through.
It’s okay to speak to a Baby with babble and glee.
And none think twice if you blather out what you think they might see.
But wherein you leave impression
is your very own internal lesson;
what is indelible, is what you, and you only, know what you leave.
For to leave it off is indeed, Discernment’s gift.
It has no commodity other than in the releasing of your own fist.
The instant it appears
is the same instant in which you forsake fears,
and the riches that become you only enhance another chance to entice this tryst.
Aaah, the gift of the Nothing from which you began.
The blank palette, the gesso’d canvas, ready for your hand.
Discernment even pigments each very hue;
are they dusky, lusty, neon, or subdued?
Only you know the tiny vibrations your own sinew demands.
Instantaenous, the firings of sensation, muscle, nerve.
The clockwork precision that emits, and turns, on a single word.
Or even an inflection, propelling acceptance - or rejection;
acid tongue or sparrow song,
you get and give exactly what you observe.
The lesson bends, and melds, liquid within your Mind.
And thus in instants you create friends, lovers, and Time.
Oh, yes, enemies too you can make, but then-- what, there, is at stake?
It’s easy to be cruel, indifferent, negative,
but what’s difficult is to be Fine.
by Ian Robin MacLaury