Harpies are but angels
who are harried,
Angry, disappointed in their lot,
Prone to practice bickering when married,
Perhaps because they don't get what they've
got.
Yet angels nonetheless, as pure inside
As deep and drifted, soot-encrusted snow,
Near the heart of God but for their pride,
No less loved, for all their squawk below.
If you find yourself pursued by harpies,
Vengeful just because . . . well, just because,
Elevate the angle of your worries,
Remembering that there are higher laws.
So may you love all beings, bright or small,
And be what you would have them be to all,
Regardless of what they might be to you.
You are the harpist, no matter what you
do.
Copyright by Nicholas Gordon. Free for personal or non-commercial use.
Audio and Video Music: Bike Sharing to Paradise. By Dan Bodan. Music free to use at YouTube.
