28 Apr




by L. Stewart Marsden


As I reread my poetry and glance over the stories I’ve written over the past three years or so, I am impressed that there is an unconscious acknowledgement of the natures of life. At least from my point of view.

I’m not the first, and won’t be the last to point this out.

Far better poets and scribers than I have lent both mind and pen to those natures.

But I’m beginning to understand, however minutely, of their consistencies.

As minute and hour and day and week and month and year succeed to the next, the constancy of nature is impressive. Cycles, sure and true, are the fleshing of perpetual motion before our normally unseeing eyes and senses.

Even the interruptive moments — those Acts of God — rain as consistent over the ages and eras and eons of time as the day in patterns we’ve come to count on.


As Webster’s defines it, is, in short, the tendency towards disorder. It is a trendy description of the universe as scientists observe it.

I give them their due. I’m not a scientist nor a mathematician in the slightest degree. One and one have always equalled two in my narrow mindedness.


An insertion into the natural order of creation. I’m thinking the entropic agent in the non-entropic order. The corruption of the consistent order. The disaster in the as-far-as-I-can-tell-didactic order and natures of things.

We seem capable of becoming seamless with the natures of things, but incapable of reaching that place.

We have (and I would insert a string of very negative verbs here, and you are welcomed to toss in your own) _________________ the environment, nature, as well as each other in our driven quests.

As Swift alluded, we are the Yahoos.

Those who study Man’s natures (gender inclusive) tch! tch! from their watchtowers, throwing out both meaningless castigations as well as threadbare lifelines.

Others, myopic and self-deceived, still hang on to unrealistic thoughts that if we just stretched out our hands to each other . . .

Life is created, life goes for a span of time, life ends. I know that by the minutes, hours, days, weeks and years I’ve experienced and observed life.

How I am a part of, or not a part of, the natures of life, I have either some or no inkling.

Scientists say that energy is constant. When I die, the energy of me will be absorbed into the cosmos.

I don’t know. That’s a bit too mathematic for me to comprehend.

Others, who say they have insight beyond this life, tell of other natures.

Again, I don’t’ know.

But I’ll keep watching the natures around me — nonhuman and human — and reflect on what I see.

My observations may be correct, or incorrect. They are only my perceptions of what I see as natures. They will, as will I, vanish in the mist of time.

I welcome you to observe with me.



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