This peach <br />that I’ve just eaten, <br />been graced by, <br />been blessed by, <br />been taught by, <br />been transformed by… <br /> <br />it’s as if some <br />Messenger of the Gods <br />had arrived, stopwatch in hand, <br />saying, everything holds in perfection <br />but a little moment - <br />as William Shakespeare noted: <br /> <br />so I’m going to arrange things so that <br />as the stopwatch ticks out <br />ten seconds to that moment, <br />you’ll reach out your hand to the fruitbowl, <br />take it, feel its yielding softness under velvet skin, <br />cut it carefully twice through the poles, <br />once equatorially… and as it falls apart, <br />spear one segment; eat… <br /> <br />this peach <br />was full of what even Rilke <br />could say no more than, peachness.. <br /> <br />it was a living proof of Plato: <br />its perfection taught me <br />where essence meets experience, <br />where actuality meets the ideal of peach; <br />where a singular perfection speaks of <br />all perfections; where perfection <br />leaves from perfection, naught else but perfect… <br /> <br />how could such a perfect thing <br />have been invented by one <br />who does not love? Who is not love? <br />This peach is love itself, and I the worshipper <br />must needs make of myself a living God <br />to whom to kneel, to offer praise and gratitude <br />for all perfection known.. <br /> <br />this peach my teacher.<br /><br />Michael Shepherd<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/this-peach-my-teacher/
