not the tree but how it grows
not the light but how it glows
not the love but how it flows
constancy of impermanence is
that is nature
not a mind but how it ponders
not a body but how it wanders
together as one
that is nature.
mass less particle
expressing an existence
empty of essence
light (ness) ⅱ
bound only in acting…
you gotta move.
No waiting for it all to
roll up to you.
the unbearable lightness of Bee-ing
(with apologies to Milan Kundera)
The bee moves unknowingly,
Trading pollen for nectar
Essence for essence
Essence for flowers
Essence for air
Essence for environment.
Unknowing of the grand contributing/consuming
Value of the bee.
Unknowing is the bee of the spring gales,
The gale of probability…
The gale of otherwise pleasant rainy days
That both beats down and force up flowering plants,
The gale that blows the bee violently of his course
His essence, his existence
His existence is very light.
His unknowing is very heavy
The unbearable lightness of bee-ing
Sartre by the sea shore
Standing on the Beach,
Contemplating the Ocean,
“Maelstrom, Maelstrom…we all fall in”
Gazing toward the wet horizon,
With wishful mind of wonder:
Madness, Madness…where do I fit in.”
Desert Beach Shore Winds
Burning sand behind the eyes
“Wasteland, darkness …coiled within”
Surf tows me under,
Circumstance’s siren song:
“Maelstrom, Maelstrom…Thou shall swirl & spin.”
Feel the water’s salty nature
Against my frozen skin
“Wave-slash, Backstroke…we all shall swim.”
Swimming and surging
Embraces swimmer to sea:
“Maelstrom, Maelstrom…the Being within.”
Our History’s prism like lenses
Refract the heaven sent light
Into colors that can never contain
The full harmony of white.
Red and Green And Blue and gold
Shimmer five billion shades,
Five billion eyes where passion lies
Absorbs these shades with blades.
Chromatic Lights will dance with blades
In colors eyes won’t see,
Blades will blind leaving coin covered eyes
To see the dark of the bottomless sea.
Red and green and blue and gold
Shine in on the eyes of a man,
His eyes an arc of perception;
The subjective he understand.
Perception, eyes, mind and blades
Do not make the whole of mankind,
For History is more than the sum of each man:
Like a square is more than four lines.
Subjective perception or singular rays
Are fragments of truth and heaven’s white,
But the whole of True Understanding lies
Where man moves beyond his own sight.