Thisness
I think, therefore I am not being.
When I am, I don’t need to think about it;
How does a raindrop perceive itself,
either forming in the cloud,
dripping down the sky,
or disappearing in the ocean?
It is only wet.
There is no deep dive required.
30 APR 2024
06.4.04
Clouds (Nuages)
Watch
the sky
slowly unfold
in an array of hues
across the edges of the world
touching every single thing underneath
for only just a moment, and then move
altering its entire pattern
enough to blur and shift
the whole pattern
of the
sky
Each
sunset
a new palette
on which the day is drawn
each instant a virgin canvas
waiting for the touch of an unseen brush
the moving finger that once having writ
becomes part of the scene it paints
creation, creator
insoluble.
The ink,
Life.
When
the sky
has turned to black
the colors are not lost;
if you look close enough, they last
but change, evolve and will not stay the same
no matter how you wish and pray;
they are not permafast
except in dreams
of the
blind.
See
these hues
that seem fragile
and so impermanent
are only simple reflections
of what we choose to imagine
exists only in some clear black and white
but cannot be contained in should and ought.
outside what we can see, the light
contains a wide spectrum
impossible
outside
clouds.
04 JUN 2004
05.6.04){kind=link}
a wisp of purple clouded sky
The now expectant moon, hid by
a wisp of purple clouded sky
bathes all in dappled glints of light
that stand on open ground this night.
And those whose lives are passing by,
a wisp of purple clouded sky,
imagine some great royal thread
that washes down on their foreheads.
While some, their purpose soft, diffused, like
a wisp of purple clouded sky,
see out beyond the falling shade
and grasp fast to the day’s last sigh.
The past is gone now, put to bed,
a wisp of purple clouded sky;
and in the coming dark, new day
is birthed and takes its place instead.
I gazed across the roofs and trees at
a wisp of purple clouded sky;
and watched the moon, grown full and fat
sing out a soft, sweet lullaby
Now lost among dark blues and black
a wisp of purple clouded sky
much like a tear, first wet, then dried
leaves no sign to mark its track
And so, each moment seems to fly,
a wisp of purple clouded sky;
each separate color fades so soon
and leaves us staring at the moon.
06 MAY 2006
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