Timothy Lawton

The Thought
12/01/1997

From the vast infinitudes of deepest space
To the infinitessimal confines of nothingness
Always salient is the thought,
the being, the presence
But a raindrop in the sea
A leaf in the forest
A breeze in a storm
Nothing is lost, nothing is forgotten
The mind of God fills the sea
The eye of God sees the leaf
And the hand of God catches the wind
It is all seen and all heard
We are but a letter in the cosmic books
A single letter in the library of time and space
Yet, all meaning is lost when we leave the page
Or, set out to make our own word

7/30/1997

The ocean lapping against the shore in rhythmic thunder and spray
But for the unfathomable aeons…..timeless
Ebbing and flowing with the years
Before and beyond any breath of man, but not the thought
The stars pin prick holes puncturing the fabric of darkness
But for the unfathomable aeons…..timeless
Traversing the heavens with the years
Before and beyond any breath of man, but not the thought
The moon that nether world of the night
Full faced, profile, or out of sight
But for the unfahomable aeons…..timeless
Waning and waxing with the years
Before and beyond any breath of man, but not the thought
The sun bathing the earth in the glow of its nurturing light
But for the unfathomable aeons…..timeless
Rising and setting with the years
Before and beyond any breath of man , but not the thought
The creation teeming with life in dependent unison all according to plan
But for the unfathomable aeons…..timeless
Growing and dying with the years
Before and beyond any breath of man, but not the thought
God the shaper of all forms and mind of all thought
Even against the unfathomable aeons…..timeless
Steady and unchanging with the years
Before and beyond any breath of man, only the being of the thought

Surely if one does not believe in God they must not believe in Beethoven

Surely if one does not believe in a Creator they must not believe in Michaelangelo either

For as sure as the 9th symphony and as certain as the Sistine Chapel the Universe does exist

Surpassing in beauty, dwarfing in grandeur, exceeding in wonder by incomparable measure

and unfathomable degrees these mere atoms of art

With one stroke of his brush with one note from his orchestra

God has made a thousand sunsets and ten million songs

Yet, the universe has unfolded by chance?

Does the orchestra play without a conductor?

Did Michaelangelo not work with a rainbow at his side?

If not God then what devined the design?

Imposing a stone like rigidity

All must fit within the walls conformity

Making monsters of young girls and little boys

Giving them a number and taking away their toys

Grow up and don’t rock, dream, or spit

And await our orders to eat, work, or take a shit

4/27/00

The smoke rises in white waves and streaks

Encompassed in a spherical cloud

Yet, I can hear the dead Indians laughing

Chuckling in their graves

Thinking

“They may have taken our land, raped our women, and killed us almost to the last.”

“But, we gave them cigarettes!”

Tobacco, the time-bomb that keeps on ticking

More effective than bullets

Longer lasting than radiation

It just keeps on killing, and killing, and killing

The perpetual motion machine of revenge

Maybe the Indians will have the last laugh after all

Or, should I say the last cough?