(Note: The piece below is by my amazing son, Richard Orbeck. He did not inherit this part of his talent from his parents. Also, if you understand and appreciate this poem, you’re the kind of person I’d like – GG)

(Photo via geekologie.com)
Five mere feet above the ground,
how confident your grand perspective!
lights and odors, sight, touch, sound,
can but five wits be so perceptive?
Your eyes can’t even see the now.
The sun itself is minutes old.
The flames of stars to Time must bow
on ancient roads of dark and cold.
You cannot see the finest germ,
or glimpse the furthest blinking star,
yet blinded so you would to learn
what stuff the thoughts of spirits are?
You have not heard the ocean vents,
those groaning pains of growing Earth,
the thrust of lands that eons lend,
and yet you claim to know their birth?
A sage, a soot, a vague perfume,
you may have sampled these by chance
but cannot smell out every bloom,
nor bask in all the world’s incense.
Say who has tasted every dish
or run their palms o’er every stone.
And yet their greatest secret which
is their Prime Cause you claim to own?
the universe and all its works,
the spectrum that you know is small.
You’d lie to me, to say what lurks
beneath, behind, around it all.
– Richard Orbeck ©2012
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Lovely! And talented. Thank you for sharing Richard, and please, share more!
It seems to be a beautifully written piece of skepticism. His talent is obvious.
Outstanding! I envy the talent.
Right on, Richard.