Poems

Our star nourishes the myriad.
Why do we ignore it?

The world spirals after it,
an obedient follower.

We blink on and off its surface.

The sun is delighted
to incinerate your”self”.

Reality is discrete,
yet perceptibly continuous.

Broken parts or flowing fields?
Swirling spheres, curved linear?

Angles with bends,
arches in shapes.

Nothing solid,
energy permeates.

To higher orders
passed off,
swiftly returned,
changed and recycled.

Object edges smear,
melting and blurry.
“I” cannot make them out.

Murky and semi-homogenous,
is this reality?

There seems one
and many concurrently.

Controlling things
destroys their true nature.

The controllers
befuddle themselves.

Controlling people
erases their true nature.

The controllers
pervert their own being.

Assumed individuals
wear many layers:
self-applied,
other-applied,
unnatural.

Sitting and doing nothing,
a trillion chemical reactions,
feverish action engulfed by calm.

Resting in exponential chaos,
why pay attention
to lumbering thought paths,
branches of self torture?

What does the simulating?

Are rules etched
upon reflective substrate?

Are collectives of
being-fields at play?

Where do hive minds reside?

Death may unveil
our return to the implicative,

our Bohmian origin.

We observe while It emerges,
experiences unfold together.

The myriad beheld define us.
Ecosystem perceives us into being.

Surroundings flow along.
Let the passed be gone.
The next approaches!

Nature shapes
micro to macro structures.

It conjures the scaffolding,
though it is formless.

Powers beneath govern,
invisible, yet modeling.

For a self dropped,
what remains?

Relaxed awareness,
neither imploding
nor exploding

Inner loudness rescinds.
Quiet mind is no mind.

A silent me leaves a “wee”!
Utter opening without boundary

Is this a catastrophe
of depersonalization,
or a great success
of awakening?

Can personal psychology
appreciate a collectivity?

Is it useless
to a non-self?