LX-LXIII

 

LX.

The Kyklos is the notion that a state
will cycle between governmental forms.
Each one succumbs to its malignant fate
corrupting all its values and its norms.

The monarchy is rule by noble king
degrading into tyranny by vice.
Democracy will then become the thing
But this shall be a mob within a trice.

Aristocrats then rise to take the helm
and rule by few is often gentlest found.
But oligarchs conspire to rob the realm
and so their tenure too shall prove unsound.

We turn for order to some stronger one
and find ourselves right back where we’d begun.


LXI.

I hold a Vespers service each midweek
and write a homily upon the text.
Attendance on a Wednesday’s often bleak
but I don’t let that get me over vexed.

I post the writing faithfully online,
cast out into the void of cyberspace,
and stream our ev’ry liturgy divine
with Evensong and Matins keeping pace.

The sower profligate will scatter seed
in hope that some shall find a fertile ground.
Will any pay attention to his creed?
Are any even list’ning for the sound?

If nothing else, my dogged stubborn goal
is to proclaim the Word to my own soul.


LXII.

My yearly doctor’s visit comes around
right after Halloween and trick-or-treat.
I wonder if I’ve run my health aground
or how to make my gut appear discrete.

For years I’ve towed the hypertension line
but all those fruits and nuts have made a dent.
He says the extra muscle’s looking fine
and I am happy with the compliment.

My blood pressure has not simply improved;
the nurse declares it “perfect,” to my glee.
It puts me in an optimistic mood
to see my health improve to this degree.

I realize I’m old and overweight
but fifty push-up sets are pretty great.


LXIII.

A holy man was sitting by the road.
A bandit came and chuckled at the sight:
“I’ll never see a heavenly abode.
I’ve fled from God with all my heart and might.”

“I tell you,” said the sage, “you’ll yet be saved
by meditating ‘mara’ all your life.”
“But mara just means ‘evil’,” bandit raved.
“I’ll think on naught but sinfulness and strife.”

“Mara, mara, mara” in his mind
at ev’ry morning, afternoon, and night.
As years went by, he gradu’lly grew kind,
concerned with justice, charity, and right.

“Rama, Rama” is the name of God
who meets us wheresoever we may trod.