and mind might ask, <br />why then are brain cells gray? Is it <br />because the world is just <br />so wonderful, that they, stunned <br />and amazed, cannot decide <br />which colour to praise first? <br />(Mix all the colours of the paints, <br />and the result is gray.) <br /> <br />or is it because they feel themselves <br />so dull in comparison <br />with the miracle which is creation, <br />the miracle they (miracles themselves) , faithful, serve? <br />(Mix all the colours of the spectrum, <br />and the result is white.) <br /> <br />or is it, because they know <br />their work lies between ultimates <br />such as (do they themselves <br />call them this?) black, <br />and white? do they know <br />their work is equity – <br />to balance all things, so that gray is not gray <br />as we use gray for worldly metaphor; but <br /> <br />the gray of lakes at peace; <br />of silver that lives in itself, <br />needing no sun but its own innerness; <br />mercury that is moved but longs <br />to be united in a perfect sphere; <br />gray of clouds that know <br />the blessings that they hold; <br /> <br />and, the shining gray of mind - <br />for which gray hair is living metaphor, <br />the wisdom which life holds in store for you - <br />as how many poets, this moment round the world, <br />are joining new electric paths of thought between <br />these tiny, great gray worm-like cells which hide, compact, <br />their vast and inner space which spins out eager words <br />of metaphor, for that so nameless, <br />boundless, dazzling spectrum, <br />the radiant space of self?<br /><br />Michael Shepherd<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/0004-m-i-n-d/
