Sprung Coil Quartet #1, 2007
by Michael Knutson
"What dreames may come, When we haue shufflel'd off this mortall coile, Must giue vs pawse." ~~~Hamlet, Shakespeare 1602
As I lay in my hospital bed,
those blurred days before
my chest was cracked open,
parts were inspected, moved
and replaced- I had pause to ponder
the meaning of my own life.
I joked that what my Zen priest friend said
about his own brush with life's ending
"it wasn't dying that scared me, it was living"-
as if I could own the same sentiment.
And to an extent I could, though what
had me concerned was legacy,
that intangible I would be leaving behind.
Though I cannot claim to do more
with a canvas than finger paint,
I have been given a gift golden-
to be able to spin multicolored words
upon the page, each time with a new hope-
that maybe a word or phrase
transcribed from the very Beloved,
will ease into your heart creating
an opening or pathway so that
you may at last know your own
I only ask that you, the recipient
of these words of breath, of ecstatic wonder,
of love and life itself, hold the clear strong vision
with me- that I may have the privilege
of reaching far and wide, where the day is at hand
even now, when I will be reading
across the continents to large audiences
hungry for solace, for peace, for a taste
of the truth of their own being.
And so it is.
As an Ecstatic Poet, my aim is to awaken in you, the part of you that knows the truth of your being, the beauty of your soul.