A Little Child Shall Impede Them

  A Little Child Shall Impede Them

Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem 

The mind, says Buddha, waits as blank and mild

Before its birth as crystals made of snow.

The mind waits flawless, waiting for a child

To enter into.  It is like love snow

From highest realms above rank clouds, above

The dreams of perfect gods, above the dreams

Of intellect and prophecy.  Mind’s love

In this estate is innocence which streams

Across the firmament that Marlowe spread

Along the brain of Faustus.  Purest soul

Is longing in an infant’s sinless head

To fill its heaven, paradise its goal.

  But Christian priestly doctrine curses this.

    It says that every brain is sinning’s hiss.

~ Phillip Whidden

by phillipw | Sep 18, 2024 | Uncategorized | 0 comments