O, to be blithe
Hail to me, my blithe spirit
Blitherie is not whither my spirit listeth
To be blithe, I need to release much
To fly away some glad morning
Release more than just a few weary days
More than the consequences that drove my ambition
The spirits I’ve attracted to my Kirlian aura
It would be a sort or religious conversion
To be a new version of the self I’ve been and become
Some of my team told me I came up in conversation out at the pub
I was back in the solitude of my hotel room
“Dave’s probably working on his book while we’re out here”
In fact, I was deep in Beethoven’s Mass in C
Which is what I mean about blithe
There are no trines in my astrological chart
All my planets are in the first house and everything
I do or that happens to me comes with a momentous upheaval
Like a religious conversion and not like the zephyr of a blithe spirit
I think I could be blithe if I wanted
If I only wanted to be blithe, to let go
And even this poem itself isn’t blithe
David Fekete 