Two Poems


My Eyes Are Sleepy

My eyes are sleepy
But my spirit is so much awake.
Let my eyes close their eyelids
Let the eyes of my spirit open.

I say to my mortal eyes

‘Okay, rest now, sleep now, eyes.’

But my spirit is so awake
So let my spirit use its own eyes.

This poet thing
It is a delight.
The poet sees eternity and yet returns
To his mortal condition again and again
Subject to the influences of mortality.

The poet has such a giant ego to slay
That makes it more difficult to become a poet
And enlightened at the same time.

Yet a poet already enlightened
And when his destination
Finally arrives at the truth
He readily reports everything
Back to humanity
No longer as a poet though
But as a prophet
A seer of the truth.

Alas! My poem is memorized drinking water
It has ceased to be just sonic display.

Meaning becomes always new
It has ceased to be static.


The poem
That is
Memorized water.



The meaning
That is new.

It has ceased to become
A playground for the ego
Now it is prophecy.

It is transcendent poetry.
And now
It is the lotus flower.

It is pure metaphor
And now
It makes subject matter
It makes destination
Arrive at the meaning.

There is something about you
That is akin to a flower.
There is a seed in you
That is becoming a flower.

Close your eyes
As I close mine
Now let us see each other
Really see each other.

Be pure

For once we are seeing
Each other.
For once we are breathing
The same sweet air.


You are

We are

* * *

Follow the Ant

I welcome difficulties with open heart
They are challenges that open my closed mind
They are keys that unlock my potential
They are obstacles that humble the self.

Difficulties cannot obliterate me
On the contrary
They confirm my existence
They confirm my relationship with life
They affirm life’s faith in me
They shape me
To have faith in life.

I realize my voice comes
From my weaknesses
Not from my strength
Realization dawns
On such acceptance
It should not be bitter
But sweet
Since mortality is sweet
Acceptance of one’s mortality
Is actually sweet
The ant knows that
Even with its tiny skull it knows
For nature knows
She flows into every living thing
With this knowledge.

The ant follows sweetness
Not bitterness
Even with its tiny skull it knows
For the entire wisdom of nature
Is also in the tiny ant.

How is it that the ant knows
But some people don’t?
Nature has no ego
For among all the creatures
Beneath the sky
Only humans have ego
And ego is such
A tricky companion.

Edwin M. Cordevilla


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