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Mar 22
Thursday
Arts and Poetry, Northeastern States
Sirens

Within open meadows of Le Sirenuse
three sisters still play having abandoned
crystalline flute, lyre’s floating hexachords,
seductive song haunting over tumultuous waves;
no more do they crave the three-masted
battered wooden ships with their crews,
bitter taste of bloodied bronze shields.

As signal bandwidth & wireless networks
effortlessly expand quiet allure
across desert, jungle, tenement, and estate,
those eager for distraction
wend closer and closer
to fresh breakers on
hidden razor shoals.

Algorithms and distributed servers
speed our quests and enrich our lives,
but open ease accompanying
the touch of your skin,
insight dawning within, runs deepest.
Neither binding rawhide nor greasy beeswax,
just tender surrender to every moment.

-Shastri Frank Ryan

From: Wake up Boston!

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