Kurt Philip Behm

It Was All Of That (+5)

I thought it was the words,

  but it was more than that

I thought it was the feelings,

  but it was more than that

I thought it was the understanding,

  but it was more than that

And I thought it was the insight,

  but it was more than that

I thought it was the lyric,

  but it was more than that

I then thought it was the melody,

  but it was more than that

I thought it was the joy they brought,

  but it was more than that

And I thought it was the talk I talked,

  but it was more than that

I thought it was the times,

  but it was more than that

I thought it was the friendship,

  but it was more than that

I thought it was the love,

 but it was even more than that

And on the day that I stopped

  thinking

    —it was all of that!

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2015)

A Doorless Mystery

Hitchhiking through the wormhole,

  all time was left behind

Distance collapsing upon itself

  reflections other side

Waste material of a life unspent

  flowing back in a parted stream

Entry to a doorless mystery

  —from a lost forgotten dream

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2015)

Deep Inside

There’s a higher level

  of being

Than you’ve thought

  or felt before

There’s a greater

  state of consciousness

Once you learn then

  to ignore…

All those things that can

  distract you

Those that keep you on

  the shelf

As the heavens play a

  forgotten song

Sung deep inside

  —yourself

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)

Spellbound

Using letters for wishes,

  the emptiness ended

Binding together my present,

  future, and past

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2015)

Mine To Know

I want to play not manage,

  write not teach

I want to drive—all controls in hand

I want to be like the rain across

  the mountains

Not the river that may turn to sand

I want to be that sniper

  with a single bullet

And not part of the infantry’s trek

I want to be the first

  to cross the tundra

Without needing a map to check

I want the bugle to blow

  from my own lips

So others may advance and attack

I want roses free, to line

  my front walk

Replanted from the garden out back

I want feet that will always

  climb above

The timid and reluctant below

I want memories to follow me

  out of this world

To a place that is just mine to know

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)