Try to find
the god in the stone,
and the stone will disappoint
when it crumbles.
Try to forget
the god in the stone,
and it is oneself
that will crumble and disappoint.
The stone is the stone,
the god is the god,
and Man is the mist in the air;
he overreaches and freezes—
falls
and melts in the warmth.
Sprawled on a grassy field
The world turns despite my stillness
Clouds drift across these eyes
A flock of birds
gathers, then fractures
Patterns in the sky
The heart is never frozen
Change comes like
bird droppings—
One can only laugh in life.
On the children,
rain falls like jewels.
They drink each drop,
hands whipping wet snakes,
fingers clutching claws.
Dry has been the month—
Such things come once in a while,
and leave very soon.
Drink now, children—Drink!
Soak the beads into the folds,
into the creases of your lips.
This is the hour!
This is!
This.
Study the portrait on the screen—
the face you see
is an emergent property
of light particles
as they bounce and intermingle
with molecules of glass.
Study the image in the mind—
the memory you’re recalling
is an emergent property
of chemicals
as they splash and soak
neurons of the brain.
Study the scriptures of the Cosmos—
the meaning you’re drawing
is an emergent property
of consciousness painting life
onto stone, water, and air.
What is the real
beneath the shadow—
the truth forming the dream?