Right Here – (Reality Poem)

I promised a poem of work. It’s buried in books and boxes from my moving. So for now, this…by Brian Faulkner, in which he tells me, “I am enclosing a few more poems which you may enjoy and perhaps read to others.”

At that time, I had read a poem of his (see “Our Factory”) to an audience of about 200. I also invited that audience to see, “Ayn Rand – A Sense of Life.” (The movie/documentary when it first opened). 

The following poem isn’t about “work” as much as it is about the human temple and proper worship. 

Brian Faulkner kindly sent this to me, Aug. 26 1998.

Right Here

He looked at each person and saw the face of God.

Each God lay on the floor, starving, thirsting, emaciated.

As he broke the last bar of his self-made prison window

He felt their papery hands praying him back, impotent.

He knew as they did, just what they wanted.

But he didn’t care; he was walking free upon the sand,

Wind in his hair, sun on his body,

Without God,

Alone at last,

Triumphant.

And now there’s another like himself, afar,

Making his way, striding the earth.

They stop; they wave; they speak.

“Glad-eyed, light-shouldered, self-determined, Man!”

“Yea! Lover of wisdom too!”

“Yea! And of Beauty, Strength, Pride!”

“Yea! And above all, I!”

“But where, now, are you bound?”

“To the high mountains, to reshape them, to fly them o’er the sea,

To carry gold and stones, and books of my making, for I’ll be

Working, thinking, judging, working, writing, endlessly mastering!”

“And I’m now just seeing things; there’s so much!”

They stride straight swiftly on, singing the new song,

Each in his new-found way;

Lifting up, from cliff to cliff, leaning out, from shore to shore,

Then round the royal world, in man-voiced pleasure hurled

and whirled and swirled:

“Life is my mastery, pride of ability,

Profiting endlessly, now I am free!”

Then, from the singer of selfish kind, Ayn Rand,

“Have you found your temple?”

“Yes. Right here. My mind.”

“And what is it built upon, do you see?”

“Yes. The one eternal foundation, Reality!”

                                            —–Brian Faulkner.

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About Tedd

I grew up in British Columbia, Canada with wide open fields as my back yard. The mountains were mine for me to roam. I played, ran, swam and wandered in the central mountains and lakes of central Okanagan. As I grew older, I traveled to New York, then Boston. I moved back to Canada. I settled back in B.C. , only to move to Toronto where I now currently live. Although I spent my youth in natural surroundings, I have spent most of my life in cities, which I love. As much as I enjoy nature, I love what man has done to the earth! Man has made a living! Man has made life possible for billions who would never be alive except for skills, ingenious tools, and technology. Carving nature to suit our purposes is breath taking, not just practical! We should be glad to be alive today! For us, using our minds to live is natural.
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2 Responses to Right Here – (Reality Poem)

  1. KickAssZone says:

    I disagree with you. Indeed, I’m not giving a ringing disagreement, but just sayin’ what I think. I have my opinion, you have yours.

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  2. Tedd says:

    In any form of cognition, speech, rhyme or prose, the message must adhere to reality to be truth. Modern mental constructs of man or the eternal passage of time does not change the irriducible fact or reality. What is, is…and we derive self-made values to live in it, including reflecting the joy’s of living in reality.

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