The day appears
when we wake up
puts its finest fog on for my delight
as the morning warms up
so the fog evaporates
leaving normality
in all its uniqueness
we are so like a machine
this me-meets-my-world thing
a darling machine
that knows no bounds
and no end to its beauty
Words have no meaning,
meaning
that their meaning is meaningless
unless they mean meaninglness
in which case the meaning is meaningful
The late Mr. G
were it up to me
I'd take him to task
but I daren't ask
He hasn't been well
so it's not for me to tell
him that it's his turn
and he shouldn't spurn
this communion we share
which takes us somewhere
beyond the two of us
to somewhere wondrous
but if it should die
I'll bid it good bye
and give thanks to G
for sharing with me
his unique creations
and fascinations
for me to reply to
or at least try to
So I let my impatience burn
allowing him time, time for his turn.
How long does a day last?
As long as a lifetime?
Longer?
How long does the wind blow?
Gone in a moment's swish
Quieter too.
Here I am not
not, knot, tied to none
I is is not
The universe turns on a proton
vanishes, returns
smaller than an electron
I am all of this and more
more than all that is
yet not even existing
but just imagined dust
