by Christopher Douglas
I met a man in a radical dream,
A fearsome soul, or so he did seem.
Shaped with brawn from head to toe,
I engaged with him as a dire foe.
I wrestled the brute from dusk to dawn,
Then wearing him out the mayhem was gone.
I asked with wonder and a head full of fear.
“What is your name and why are you here?”
“For people who wish to cross the sea,
I, Christopher, carry them to the land of To Be.”
“And what, pray tell, is this land of To Be?”
I asked with images quite foreign to me.
“It’s a place to live in the eternal now,
especially for those who have not learned how.”
“And what is it like to live in this moment,
does it have a special, pleasant component?”
“The land To Be is about rhythm and song,
A human’s delight, you can do nothing wrong.”
“I see from you picture you carry a child.
What is happening; it all seems so wild.”
“‘Tis a newborn named Joy and the burden is light.
If you decide to follow all things will be right.”
“Well, I’m ready,” I said, “to cross the sea.
Please carry Joy and me to the land of To Be.”
Photo: St. Christopher by Giovanni Bellini 1464-68