Wisdom’s Tenacious  Hunger

Wisdom begins where the world is widest,
beneath sleeping continents that roll in their sleep,
where plates argue in whale‑song Morse,
and mountains crease like origami made by earthquakes.

Some people can hear the gravel remembering rain,
feel old quarrels settling into the calcium of their names.
Others stand on the same ridgelines
and applaud the wind, that pocket‑picking trickster,
as if it combed the planet’s spine into being.

Mind sharpens in rooms unhinged by time:
an observatory whose single clouded eye
is full of migrating fish made of fog;
a battlefield where rust has learned to sing
national anthems backward to the grass;
a cathedral where stained glass liquefies,
drifts upward like slow jellyfish of color,
blessing the ceiling, the dust, the moth.

But wisdom thins in mirror‑parliaments,
where every copy votes yes,
and the floor,pretending to be floor,
is a patient lake rehearsing its drowning.

Smaller things tutor us…

A raindrop hitchhiking a subway window,
writing cursive rivers down the city’s throat;
a cashier with thunder nesting under their eyelids,
ringing up pocket universes,
moons of onions, constellations of cereal,
each barcode a cage for a flying number.

Yet...

Folly gardens in our comforts:
the refrigerator‑hum of being right again,
the familiar quilt of answers pulled too tight
until the ribs forget they were built for breathing.

And then…

The smallest tutor of all:
a sugar‑crumb clinging to the lip of a coffee cup,
a stubborn star‑salt refusing gravity’s invitation.
I watch it glitter like a tiny revolt
and feel the furniture inside me shift.

Teacups tilt.

The future drops a spoon.

Somewhere, a mountain clears its throat.

It is no longer a question.

Wisdom finds me the way fire finds oxygen.

The rush enters like a tide
placing windows where my walls once dominated,
as it joyously consumes the stale bread of my certainties

as the crumbs begin to sing.

In that tiny insistence,

the heart realizes how much it has overlooked,

how little it truly understands.

The world tilts—

just slightly—

and both mind and soul ask shyly:

did I discover wisdom,

or did wisdom discover me?

It found me
in the cave of experiences

where a patient ocean-like movement,
laps the shore

as waves roar their approval.

echoing to the higher plateu

where wisdom’s silent voice now resonates.