A scrap from The Daily Mail, the sight
Of a Skechers ad on a van, a wave
Of nostalgia, of regret, and a bear lumbers
And stumbles about in the damp cave.
And you find meaning in the trash,
You say that it is good, that you
Can find some use for it, that it
Will light some far and crystal avenue.
You row back, your nets have caught
The crystal jellyfish. You row
A vast ocean, and on your narrow path
You reap the water’s eerie glow.
The story that you tell that blends
The ocean and your path goes down
To the cold, black ocean floor
And rises to the Northern Crown.
The stones that you knew from the start are
Jade and tanzanite will yield
Their lines, will glint, different
From stalks of wheat dropped in the field.
Life finds its way, it bubbles and
It surges, through plan and accident,
Through mind and heart, through sleep and flight,
Through logic or presentiment.
Yaacov David Shulman