For Heraclitus
I. Everything Flows
You step into the shallow river,
your feet enjoying the cool water.
You feel the sun-warmed wind,
your body drenched with delight.
You walk forward and back,
your mind developing memories.
You return here another time,
your favorite spot washed away.
You sense changes in your body,
your brain telling you otherwise.
You try to remember the past feeling,
your hopes not the same as before.
II. Everything Moves
You are dead when you are born,
your grip on life tenuous and fleeting.
You withstand your own screaming,
your impulses not overwhelming.
You try to open your eyes to see anything,
your surroundings giving you purpose.
You learn how to crawl and walk,
your body impervious to resistance.
You discover up and down are the same,
your fluctuations merely delusions.
You find strength in your routines,
your motions estranged from failure.
III. Everything Is Empty or Everything Is Vanity
You stand just beyond the Garden of Eden,
your hand trying to reach for some fruit.
You hear a voice say to not pursue earthly delights,
your mouth craving food more than God.
You are told to not attempt to cross the border,
your body unable to breach the passage.
You are pulled toward the darkening cosmos,
your soul quickly flying among infinity.
You glide through galaxies and black holes,
your destination a burgeoning protostar.
You decide to live in this heavenly world,
your previous life nothing but a dream.
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Christopher Stolle wears many hats – partner, uncle, son, music devotee, baseball enthusiast, and, on occasion, writer. His work has appeared with Indiana University Press, the Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra, Coaches Choice, Tipton Poetry Journal, Flying Island, and the Plath Poetry Project, among numerous other outlets. He lives in Richmond, Indiana, USA.
Photo by Markus Spiske on Unsplash.
Art/s and Theology Australia 