A.E. Stallings - Apr 11, Iyengar All Levels

A contemporary Greek classicist with gift for elevating the ordinary. The longer I’m around, the more I’ve come to embrace being unsure.

Pencil

Once, you loved permanence,

Indelible. You'd sink

Your thoughts in a black well,

And called the error, ink.

And then you crossed it out;

You canceled as you went.

But you craved permanence,

And honored the intent.

Perfection was a blot

That could not be undone.

You honored what was not,

And it was legion.

And you were sure, so sure,

But now you cannot stay sure.

You turn the point around

And honor the erasure.

Rubber stubs the page,

The heart, a stiletto of lead,

And all that was black and white

Is in-between instead.

All scratch, all sketch, all note,

All tentative, all tensile

Line that is not broken,

But pauses with the pencil,

And all choice, multiple,

The quiz that gives no quarter,

And Time the other implement

That sharpens and grows shorter.