Wednesday, June 1, 2011

What A Piece Of Work Is A Man

What a piece of work is a man, how noble in reason, how
infinite in faculties, in form and moving how express and
admirable, in action how like an angel, in apprehension how like
a god! The beauty of the world, the paragon of animals—and yet,
to me, what is this quintessence of dust?- W.Shakespeare


Today
I was late for work
Once again
For the umpteenth time
Mostly because
I was dreaming
Again
And I wanted
To find out
What I was
Dreaming about
I was late
Getting started
Again today
Because
I am not
A machine
I am a man
I am a human being
And I have needs
I need to sleep
And
I need to dream
The dream world
To me
Is a kind of heaven
Where I can
Reunite
With loved ones
Long departed
How beautiful
And how precious it is
To be able to see
Their sweet faces
Once again
To hear their dear voices
Once again
To be able to
Share our tears
To wish
That we could all
Be together again
To share love
To kiss
To hug
To cry
To laugh
To be able
To apologize
For wrongs
Not yet righted
For hurts
Not yet healed

I remember
The words
Of my beloved
Mother Clara
Who
Once said
That if she could only
See her mother alive
One more time
She would gladly wash
Her mother's feet
And gladly drink the water
I may have been twelve
At the time
But even then
I recognized
The profundity
Of her words
And I repeat
Them again
Today
To her
In my dreams
Even
If
Doing so
Will
Make
Me
Late
For
Work
Once
Again

jhmarkowitz
Philadelphia, Pa. 2011

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