How can I be still, all the same be still moving?
Content with my life, and intent on improving?
How can I belong, and yet keep my heart free?
Be found full of hope where no promise may be?

To be lost in love, yet in loving be found …
To bend in the storm while I’m standing my ground …
To offer my all while accepting the way …
To let go, release, as they cry ‘Seize the day!’

Still and still moving, still and still moving …
each moment entangled with infinity;
this time and this place filled with infinite space;
the hummus of earth sprouting divinity.

Let faith warm itself by uncertainty’s cold.
While careful of moments, my hours grow more bold.
I’ll temper my strengths to compassion and find
the child in me sees where my knowledge is blind.

To be lost in love, yet in loving be found …
To bend in the storm while I’m standing my ground …
To offer my all while accepting the way …
To let go, release, as they cry ‘Seize the day!’

Still and still moving, still and still moving …
each moment entangled with infinity;
this time and this place filled with infinite space;
the hummus of earth sprouting divinity.

#18
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Copyright 2025 M. Ryan Taylor

Note: Inspired by a quote from T.S. Eliot, I really wanted to write on the paradoxes I’ve been forced to confront in crawling out of the pit of despair over the last two years. This one was difficult as a writing exercise; I used my eraser a lot, rewriting each stanza multiple times. I finished the last 4-lines last night (‘Let faith …’). Sometimes it surprises me how much time it takes when I get started on one of these sections … an hour disappeared before I knew it.

Photo: Suzi Kim via Unsplash

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