The Flickering Present

The Flickering Present

Seamless, our projections,
the beacons we cast with each glance,
a cinematic marvel evident
to those gifted with such perception.

The knowledge of what has been,
the potential for what may be,
the defining moment known
only to ourselves, yet offered freely.

Taken in part, they imply
a puzzle, absent key pieces,
but when recognized as a whole
provide the answer to those of keen eye.

This poem is inspired by Stephen Tanham’s words in
The Flickering Present… at SUN IN GEMINI.

“ Imagine that each of us is a lighthouse, and our beams of light
rotate, not to be seen by ships at sea, but to light up a landscape
that is our world. Our brains assemble the flickering images
and create something apparently seamless – our lives – from
what is seen. Things that are dangerous or very beautiful require
us to spend time studying the landscape so that we can spot their patterns in the future.”

His post also appears at The Silent Eye

Photo by Robert Wiedmann on Unsplash

Also shared with Open Link Night at dVerse Poets Pub.

8 thoughts on “The Flickering Present

  1. Oh, WOW – both your beautiful reflection and the triggering article from Stephen Tanham. I’ve been reading both repeatedly, going back and forth. Thank you, Ken, for a delightful diversion this morning. I am left wondering about my lighthouse … is it spinning at a constant rate, or fluctuating, perhaps a gear needs some lubrication, or rats have made a nest that blocks light on a key slice of “out there” (those not-really-missing puzzle pieces!)


  2. I love the idea of us being beacons of light and whatever or whoever the light falls upon expands in positivity and wholeness. Well, that’s what I took from your inspiring write. And I love that title too!


  3. A lovely, thought-provoking poem inspired by Stephen Tanham’s words. I like the analogy that we project beacons like a lighthouse–but also we do not always see what is reflected. The moment or conditions have to be right. It’s something I’ve thought about before, and how there is probably so much around us that we can’t see or hear.


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