Can I sit
attentive to the voice of many waters
and yet
move, serve, respond?
Can I act,
responsive to a world of burning rubble
and yet
listen, stop and breathe?
Full of many things,
I forget
to choose the better part.
Caught in mindless bustle,
I catch
eternity in the friction that grinds
to a hault.
O bless the failure
that drives me kneeward.
Bless the gravel that stirs up
my knees to stretch and rise.
Mr. Pullar,
This is one of my favorites of all your poems, though they are all lovely. Very good job!