29 July 2015

Four Hundred and Ninety-Eight


We humans are all animals here,
Mammals with consciousness enough, with imagination enough,
To perceive the sensory play in such a way as to fabricate the notion, the absurdity, of individuality.
Animals with a beyond-the-pale aptitude for communication and tool-making.
But animals, nonetheless, animals, nonethemore.

* * * *
If you were in a jungle, and had not learned the means, the tools, necessary for your survival,
How long do you think others would share the boon of their skill in the hunt?
Every bird must abandon the nest flying upon its own wing.
Anything less is not the Way of Eden.

* * * *
Why is every man not treated, respected, venerated, as one would
A grandfather, a father, an uncle, a brother, a husband, or a son?
Why is every woman not treated, respected, venerated, as one would
A grandmother, a mother, an aunt, a sister, a wife, or a daughter?
What is it that makes our kind so callous toward strangers?
Why are we so caught up in the squalor of differences
Rather than the common thread weaving all?

* * * *
This brief dream is likely just a one-shot dog and pony show
In your mind-body’s so very vain sliver of forever,
So enjoy it as best ye may, while ye may,
For it will all be over sooner than soon enough.

* * * *
Even the most vile foe is teacher to you, and you to s/he.
There is no occurrence that has not played its part
In your reaching this moment in dreamtime.
You may not much care to offer heartfelt thanks,
But the truth of it best be acknowledged for what it is.

* * * *
There are always subtleties within subtleties within subtleties.
No one ever achieves excellence any first time,
Nor doe anyone ever truly know everything about anything.
Attaining mastery always takes practice; the beginner is always a beginner.

* * * *
Go back to the you before the mortal body, and forward to the you after it has fallen away.
Of what importance is this ever-changing vessel, this vague set of imaginary notions, really?