———
Distant forest
Wakes and roars.
Oncoming storm.
——–
Savouring every leaf
Delighting in every edge:
Sunlit autumn breeze.
——–
The only vaccine
For prejudice
Is clarity:
Self
As ephemeral fragment,
A wonder of wonders,
A blossom
Of unique possibility,
Never
To be repeated –
Melody in a dream
Forgotten
On waking.
——–
The universe is not interested in perfection.
Perfection is a dead end,
An eternal equilibrium of boredom,
Of self-congratulation
(the faint whiff of decay).
The religion of bigots,
The philosophy of the small-minded.
Perfection is cessation,
Utter self-containment,
A view too large to begin to encompass,
A beginning before a beginning,
An ending after an ending.
——-
Serene cloud worlds, unconcerned,
Grow and dissipate.
A dance of vapours: light and water
Built high in air.
Foundationless, they thrive.
Rootless sky trees swept on.
It is the
Fragile violence,
Remorseless distance,
That we long for:
An existence without finality,
Careless,
Law-abiding,
Supported,
Free.
—–
In Timeless Time.
In great India
By the slow,
green stream
of the goddess river
In the weight
Of sunlight:
Falling dust.
Time here
Does not pass by,
It does not vanish
Nor fly.
It cannot be wasted.
Time
Accumulates
In golden layers.
Passing
Through a door
Back ten thousand years,
Back to mythic daylight.
Passing
Through another:
Forward ten thousand years
To the gold, smoking, warm night.
Slaked
With time,
Drunk and full up,
The land vibrates:
Chant of cell song,
Golden chant of suns,
Whispered chant of universes.
Settling bliss,
The chant of golden light.
The outer forms:
Poverty, pain, old age, death,
The crumbling
Slow and mighty;
The smell of decay,
Green insidious damp,
Importunate smirk.
All
Barely able
To hold back
The bliss of light
Radiant
Within
The centuries of Time,
One on another,
Piled in corners,
Smiling.
——-
