11 October 2014

Three Hundred and Sixty-Three


As enlightening, absorbing, entertaining, and often oh so horrifying
As all the innumerable flavors of imagination can be,
It is ever merely a kaleidoscoping dream,
And really, in the ultimate sense,
Just does not even matter one scintilla.

* * * *
Peace, contentment, serenity, grace, happiness, joy.
The final harbor.

* * * *
Nothing to do, really, but witness the show,
Wherever you may be, whatever the course.

* * * *
Daily, the same old scratchy record.
No news would, indeed, be good news.

* * * *
The abyss yawns at your vanity.

* * * *
The balloon of consciousness
Must expand far and wide, deep and long,
To reach its inevitable limit.

* * * *
North and south, east and west,
Up and down, in and out, right and left,
Just arbitrary sounds for manifest consciousness
To pretend at carving up the indivisible.

* * * *
If you will not learn something
Out of some sort of innate common sense,
Then, rest assured, pain is always an enthusiastic teacher,
Ever alert, patient, fully armed, in the wings.

* * * *
Those who dominate the world have no relationship with nature or themselves.
Therefore, alas, Mother Gaia and all her creatures great and small
Are condemned to enslavement and destruction,
For whatever coin can be fashioned from their demise.