03 July 2014

Two Hundred and Forty


Humankind cannot grow, grow, grow,
Without there some harsh day being a huge collapse
Of our own making, of own synergistic lack of personal responsibility.
Follow any given Pied Piper to whatever cliff you will,
There will at some point in time come a fall.
Whatever goes up will come down.
It is a statistical certitude
Of the highest order.

* * * *
If there is a god, a deity, a supreme being of any sort,
And he/she/it is as vain and arbitrary as you,
Then what, pray tell, is the point?

* * * *
Every context is unique.
Every situation constantly changes.
No one’s rendering of the universe is ever the same,
Yet prior to the myriad imaginary concoctions,
Every version is very much the same
In the most indivisible Way.

* * * *
What a walkabout it would be could any of us
See the inner video of another’s existence.
Meanwhile, the faces tell so many tales

* * * *
Isn’t waking up every day mystery enough,
Without adding a heap of gratuitous folderol?

* * * *
To be in the world, and not be of it.
One foot in dreamtime, the other in oblivion.
Challenging, indeed, to straddle the splintery fence.

* * * *
If you keep up that ravenous, insatiable gorging,
How will you ever discover the serenity of emptiness?

* * * *
Given the nature of reflections, is it any wonder any given mind
Only seeks out mirrors to which its monkey nature is inclined.