A poem by Ralph Copleman a longtime Open Space practitioner, posted this week on the OSLILST
The Days of Now
On the night before Now
we all clambored over
and greeted each other by the gateway.
Now came the first morning.
We opened for each other many conversations
and passed cups around the shining circle.
On the second of Now,
I could see a long way in people’s eyes
which cleared to let in the light.
On the third of Now,
everyone started dialing up tomorrows,
released laughter and embraced
every future Now with braided voices
and sweat-slicked arms.
Each night Now the sky
came down to join us,
like an animal testing the scents.
On the fourth of Now
we saw magic inside ourselves
and blew gently the embers in each other.
On the fifth day Now transformed
into pieces of hours and sounds.
There was baying and mirth
and sweet fresh rubbing of skin on skin.
The sixth of Now saw us
plain and fearful, thrilled and drawn
to each other in new forever dreams.
On the seventh of Now
we redrew all our lines,
filled all the hollows, as Now expected.
At last the night Now
draped velvet and quiet
as hushed we prepared our ascent.
This night is that night Now.
It has unquenchable questions
and the same different beginning.
On top of morning Now
and all through evening Now
we waxed and shined the circle again
sipped each other’s songs
and touched old and new alike.