A Poem For You
The Radish & The Universe
Article voiceover
Late last night, while preparing the next day’s lunch boxes, I saw the moon’s face slip across the cutting board and whisper to me, come outside! Its milk-tooth grin bathed the radish in my hand in a lunar veneer and for a moment, I was compelled to leave and take to the hill where one who is free of domestication can view the night sky, succulent and wild in its pip. And I would feel that tender awe, I always do when I take the time to be alone and gaze up at that spangled rug to which Mystery’s feet walk upon. But as I peel and spread and boil and skin, I wonder, if that sky were to be taken away, would I not too, disappear? And if the radish sits plump in its crimson skin because every element in the solar system gathered to make it what it is, then where does the radish end and the universe begin? Where does the universe end and I begin? Are we not extensions of each other? And am I not too planted here, have I not too grown from all that is: sun, moon, stars, and rain - not one would I survive the absence of. And so, contented, I continue to sliver the root, watching its wafer-thin pith blush pink with fractals, and I wash the fruit in sunshine, and close containers with planets and shooting stars that will become my children the next day. And I recognize my own hands as those of creation, and my heartbeat as that of cosmic pulse, stellar thought and black matter live inside me, and the moon is love being wiped clean so it can start again in the morning.
Swear fealty to the Mystery of what you are because what you are cannot be separated from the most remarkable mystery of all; Life.
You are an extension of all that is and all that has ever been. Nothing in this moment, even a deep suffering, can exist alone or be isolated from the totality of such a loving creation. Â
What mundane activities remind you of your place in the greater Mystery of existence?
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Sez, your words capture the heart of what I feel most intensely in nature—that profound awe in the light’s ever-changing touch, the unique glow it gives to each moment. For me, this awareness of being woven into the universe often emerges when I’m outdoors, feeling the sun or wind on my skin, or standing beneath a sky studded with stars.
I sense this connection, too, in the simple act of creating a meal: flour, water, egg, a bit of fat—all transformed by heat into something nourishing, beautiful, alive. Your poem reminds me that even in the smallest, most mundane actions, we touch something timeless. Preparing food, watching the northern lights, or savoring a sunset—all these moments bring me closer to the Mystery you describe, that endless conversation between ourselves and the cosmos.