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There has never been an age that did not applaud the past and lament the present.

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Simple Observation #239 - There probably has never been.......

There probably has never been anything made that someone hasn’t tried to make better
so it is with God; nature, evolution and man; all the Scriptures are proof of the letter.

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Unless It Has Never Been Addressed

If you are not celebrating,
Yourself...
With pride and dignity.
You have no identity.
That is how I see it!
That is how it appears to me.

There is something missing in your life.
An understanding that goes unidentified.
Something unliked one wishes to hide...
Or ignore! Perhaps despise!

There is an unacceptance.
And whatever it is,
It is denied.

Anyone with a pride and dignity...
Will let this be known.
And it is clearly shown,
On the outside as it should be.
Unless it has never been addressed,
Or respected.
And the emptiness is left unconnected!

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This Has Never Been Rare

Incite,
They do.
With a barricade...
To masquerade insecurities.

It took overnight,
To fight themselves...
Over their rights!

And a greed that now sees them seething...
With heated breath felt,
Close to the nose of those they chose.

They see themselves as enemies.
Distrusted with beliefs...
That their way of life was jeopardized,
By those that despised them.

But none could do that better,
Than they do it...
To themselves!

Incite,
They do.
With a barricade...
To masquerade insecurities.
And threats like these...
They defend,
With an absence of common sense...
So obvious everywhere.

And this has never been rare.
It has not been adopted,
To address as an issue.
Sensitivities keep them conflicted.

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This Has Never Been A Surprise

To you,
This may come as a shock.
But to me,
This has never been a surprise.
Look in my eyes!

Believe it or not...
It is not you but God,
That controls my destiny.
I knew you would have that reaction.
I knew you would tremble...
With a buckling of your knees.
But it is true...
I've never viewed you that way!

I've been trying to tell you that.
But somehow that message has been lost.
I've been trying to tell you that.
I didn't know my confession would do you like this!
Please stop crying!
I'll still call you boss.
But stop your weeping...
I insist!

To you,
This may come as a shock.
But to me,
This has never been a surprise.
Look in my eyes!

Believe it or not...
It is not you but God,
That controls my destiny.

This has never been a surprise.
Although this has been your belief.

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God Has Never Been Gay

God will make a way
Where there seems
To be no way
He works in ways
We cannot see
He will make
A way for me
He will be my guide
Hold me closely by his size

With love and strength
For each new day
He will make a way
He will make a way

With love and strength
For each new day
He will make a way
He will make a way

By a roadway
In the wilderness
He'll lead me
Rivers in the desert will I see
Heaven and earth will fade
But his word will still remain
And He will do
Something new today

By a roadway
In the wilderness
He'll lead me
Rivers in the desert will I see
Heaven and earth will fade
But his word will still remain
And He will do
Something new today

With love and strength
For each new day
He will make a way
He will make a way

With love and strength
For each new day
He will make a way
He will make a way

1990 Dan Moen Intergrity's Hosanna Music/ASACP

My rewrite of the song, God Will Make A Way by Dan Moen, above

God has never been gay
However their kind has tried to make it seem
God has never been gay
No way
No, no, he does not and will never
Never will approve of their love's twisted ways
Even through right now you say you cannot see
See the light of this most holy truth
Believe me
Believe me
Someday with his glorious wonder as your guide
Holding closely to your faith neverending
You will come to understand
Only a man belongs by a woman's side
Only a woman belongs by a man's
Never, never two of the same kind

With the ulimate in love and strength
We must fight back
Each and every day
Everyday againest this dark sin
Oh yes
Repeat after me, all you faithful sheep
With the ulimate in love and strength
We must fight back
Each and every day
Everyday againest this dark and ugly sin
Oh yes
For it is true
It is true
God has never been gay
God has never been gay

Run 'em down in the roadway
Shoot 'em down in the wilderness
Believe me
Trust me
This is the only way

Drown 'em in rivers
Leave 'em to burn alive in the sun of hot hot deserts
Then maybe someday hopefully the memories and the guilt of what we had to do will fade
And only the goodness of our straightness will remain
Oh yes
Believe me
Trust me, indeed
This is the only way

Run 'em down in the roadway
Shoot 'em down in the wilderness
Believe me
Trust me
This is the only way

Drown 'em in rivers
Leave 'em to burn alive in the sun of hot hot deserts
Then maybe someday hopefully the memories and the guilt of what we had to do will fade
And only the goodness of our straightness will remain
Oh yes
Believe me
Trust me, indeed
This is the only way

God has never been gay
However their kind has tried to make it seem
God has never been gay
No way
No, no, he does not and will never
Never will approve of their love's twisted ways
Even through right now you say you cannot see
See the light of this most holy truth
Believe me
Believe me
Someday with his glorious wonder as your guide
Holding closely to your faith neverending
You will come to understand
Only a man belongs by a woman's side
Only a woman belongs by a man's
Never, never two of the same kind

With the ulimate in love and strength
We must fight back
Each and every day
Everyday againest this dark sin
Oh yes
Repeat after me, all you faithful sheep
With the ulimate in love and strength
We must fight back
Each and every day
Everyday againest this dark and ugly sin
Oh yes
For it is true
It is true
God has never been gay
God has never been gay

2009 Ramona Thompson

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What Head Of Hero That Did Not Roll

Times when the winds howl
and chase ships home to brood
there are no fish in the water
that did not tremble too.
In the nude of the dawn
and at the trembling of the day
a rapturous melancholic wonder
holds you at bay.

Then the meal that's stripped in form
is in remote mood sliced
and you did not know
if your hand you cut for cake
nor did you think it could…

In such times too
in the teeming thought of the town
think you:

with all eyes chasing you
down the street
you draw up at red
and stretch out when green

did not do it
did not will it
but you did it all the same
why you couldn't think of blame

yet all the company followed you
way from vacant luminous glares
of gathering traffic throbbing by

but then even in red wheels roll
and what head of hero did not roll…

You have talked to her out of sight
in the placid coolness of the night
you had never thought this could bite
and despite old odourless days

winds will rush in spite

for even in red wheels roll…
and what head of hero will not roll

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There has never been a time when a career in the Penney Company was not a challenge that brought out the best in a man.

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Hold On My Heart

Hold on my heart
Just hold on to that feeling
We both know weve been here before
We both know what can happen
Hold on my heart
Cos Im looking over your shoulder
Ooh please dont rush in this time
Dont show her how you feel
Hold on my heart
Throw me a lifeline
Ill keep a place for you
Somewhere deep inside
So hold on my heart
Please tell her to be patient
Cos there has never been a time
That I wanted something more
If I can recall this feeling
And I know theres a chance
Oh I will be there
Yes I will be there
Be there for you
Whenever you want me to
Whenever you call oh I will be there
Yes I will be there
Hold on my heart
Dont let her see you crying
No matter where I go
Shell always be with me
So hold on my heart
Just hold on to that feeling
We both know weve been here before
We both know what can happen
So hold on my heart...

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A Thorough And Complete Irrigation

Just how stagnant, backed up and polluted,
Is the thinking in those country?

'One conversation.
That's all anyone will need,
To determind there has never been a flow...
Ongoing to flush out the rust.
It's all there...
Plugged up with stuff like raw sewage.
Kept to recycle in their minds.'

What can be done to undo this with a solution?

'A thorough and complete irrigation.'

And...
If that should fail?

'Well...
No one can make happen,
What time has already given to then pass on...
Has allowed.'

What do you mean by that?

'Trolley cars use to run up and down these streets.
Many years ago.'

And your point is?

Go over there,
And tell anyone standing...
You wish to wait for the next trolley to come.
And ask where you should wait.
Someone will then ask...
'Are the trolleys still running?
I thought they replaced those with buses? '

So what are you saying?
They are a little bit slow?

'That's a very good question.
Go over there and ask them.
I am sure they will let you know...
Just how slow.'

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There has never been an unexpectedly short debugging period in the history of computers.

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In all known time there has never been a greater monster or miracle than the human being.

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The coastline did not need the poem

The coastline with great beauty
did not need the poem,
the city with its glittering lights
jewelled and blazing against the night
did not need anybody to sing
of it being the sprouting place of civilization
on this Dark Continent,
neither did the Sentinel at Table Bay
watching from its rocky slopes
care what anybody said about it
and the ocean, the blue sea
ignored its praises,
kept on sending its crushing waves
on to the shore, as it has done forever more.

[Reference: After the Poem by Sydney Clouts.]

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I Wrote A Poem I Did Not Know The Meaning Of

I WROTE A POEM I DID NOT KNOW THE MEANING OF

I wrote a poem I did not know the meaning of-
I understood whatever I understood of it
Was only one of many misunderstandings-
I wondered then whether my Poetry is nonsense-
I know it isn’t because it tells my true feeling.
But this too is perhaps only another interpretation and another misunderstanding-

I write this poem as if I know what it is all about -
But what if it is only my misinterpretation of the real poem
I never could write?
And what if these lines are some deliberate pretentious unnecessary small confusion no one needs,
Even my dream?

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I Did Not Hear The Trade Cry

I did not hear the trade cry--
Under the music of your skillful art.
I don't want to buy and sell,
Thru cell phone, the plastic heart.
Am I jerk, or you are? you have proved,
Trademan of darkest shop!
You are sold by Mephistophillis,
To make your life a sure flop!
Here, you can buy something,
But, will miss a pure mind.
Being not a beast, all may,
Call you animal behind.

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You Complimented My Poem And I Did Not Have The Consideration To Read Yours

YOU COMPLIMENTED MY POEM AND I DID NOT HAVE THE CONSIDERATION TO READS YOURS

You complimented my poem and I did not have the consideration to read yours
Now I apologize to you without mentioning your name
Or reading your poem-

A weak apology
Meant to get me off the hook-

Still I know how lonely it is to write and write
And not hear the words you want to hear in reply

Forgive me
Perhaps I will read your poem or poems one day-
But I cannot promise.

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I Did Not Bite The Apple To Its Core (Terzanelle)

I did not bite the apple to its core,
before the sensual sexual act of intimacy
but excused myself through the unlocked door

and kept to this tendency
not kissing the embracing woman on the street,
before the sensual sexual act of intimacy

not following her, but whished her Godspeed
and so I send three wanton women on their way
not kissing the embracing woman on the street,

not interested to kiss and play,
but now it feels as if life is speeding past
and so I send three wanton women on their way

I whish to have my life back as it was
to experience, to find the secret to life
but now it feels as if life is speeding past

and I am without a wife.
I did not bite the apple to its core,
to experience, to find the secret to life
but excused myself through the unlocked door.

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A Letter To The Best Friend That I Have Never Met (An Ode To Friendship)

We have shared much, both with and through
Our mutually Beloved Angel-yet still, You
And I have a very special friendship unto our own,
Which started nearly 2 years ago, and has grown
To be a familiarity almost as close as I possess,
With the Angel named Guzel, that God did Bless
Both of us with-and because of whom, we consort;
Yet, it is we, as two individuals alone, that cause the rapport
We share to be as beautiful as it is-where words are not needed-
Where an unspoken Code of Love and Respect is always heeded!
Your hopes and dreams for your best friend
Have always been the same as mine; with no need to amend
Or change anything at all-in fact, it is as though you dream, with us!
There has always been a transcendentalism that seems, with us
To go far beyond a best friend's wants for her loved one,
To a sensory Gift from God Himself, to a Most Beloved ONE!
A Love for an Angel and Her Beloved, we share-
And all the Best, all the Time-is what we dare
Ask-and we do so for only altruistic reasons, as we care
So very much for their happiness, and that they fare
Well is our hope-and for anguish or lament to be, ne'er!
No one, but we two know how very much love, be there!
We share many loves, the same as each:
A love of country, culture, sunsets at the beach,
Language, food, sports and nature-
But now, of more import than that of their future,
And the jollity and fulfillment that we know it shall contain-
IS the course we are on now-and continue to maintain-
From a most beautificent aspiration,
To a wondrous, worldly realization
For this quartet that we both do so very much, adore!
We have both seen their unbridled joy and want more
Of same for them; we know but one Truth, which brings
About a futurity, that ensures that this Angel's soul sings-
As do those of Her Beloved Angels, now wholly replete-
With the family unit each has always desired-finally complete!
So, 'muchas gracis Amiga Favorita', for all that you have done-
For the purpose that we share, and for the victories that we have won-
Both for ourselves, and for the Ultimate Good, we
Want-that has been Prophesied-that SHOULD be
And, that SHALL be-we have ALWAYS had like concerns, in this regard-
BOTH for the Betterment of Their Hearts, as well as their guard!
THIS is how Heavenly Father wants it, and He HAS Shown
The same to all-TRUE LOVE, DIVINE LOVE-is NEVER alone!

-Maurice Harris,7 February 2012

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I Apologize If There Has Been a Misunderstanding

'Your 'knees' are my main concern.
And the only reason why,
I keep my eye on every detail...
Of your activities.'

~Excuse me!
No offense.
But I do believe you mean my 'needs'.
Correct? ~

'Your NEEDS?
Don't get arrogant and uppity with me.
As long as you remain on your KNEES...
Knowing your place?
We will continue to get along,
Just fine.

You folks always 'think'...
Too much.
And perceiving yourselves,
To have a freedom to be delivered to you...
Of some kind!

I apologize if there has been a misunderstanding.
I did not intend to interrupt your comfort.'

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Strange Romance

"Romance is lost; romance is forgotten; romance has died; the young lady with ocean blue eyes and skin as fair as the tips of oceans waves heart has been broken, " exclaimed the poet whom is lost in an age that did not fit in his frame of mind.

In 19th century France, John would have been considered a genius but in modern day America people considered him insane. You see, he lacked the moral perception to discern good and evil. He saw the sweetness in sin and the vacuousness of virtue. He thought nature to be mundane and gave each of its creations the romance of the five senses. To him each flower could smell the honey of the bees, each bird chirped a song of love to the branches of the trees, and each apple could savor the taste of light peach lips curvaceous as a woman's hips.

"The young lily, the bella, whose blonde hair vibrates like tremendous threads of thin gold, glass heart has been smeared by lies, her gracefulness marred by a charlatan's cruel eyes. Her art, integrity and honor sold cheaply to dilettantes. Shattered in pieces one will never feel the full affect of her beating heart again."

Mr. Wilde's words "Thy love not art, " displayed their succinct potency as one subtle tear slid down his eye and dissipated on his mouth.

"Her love is pure, her love is marvelous, her love taste of passionate kisses; her love feels like sinuous caresses, her love burns in the inferno of Dante's hell; the woes of souls drowning in a whirlpool of sorrow can't light the flame and reveal the path to love for her again! " exclaimed John in poetic utterance after waking from a dream.

II
Mary sat melancholy on a case of stairs in robe of satin silk, peering into the sky, with angelic eye, contemplating the mystery of the universe, pondering the eyes of the night, the imperial stars that hovered the earth, with no meaning, with no thought, only motion, subtle and slow, the stars guiding her mind, the universe spoke! she heard voices in her head, which strangled her tongue.

"The silence of the heart, the sadness of her lips, the beauty of her hand, could leave an indelible impression in the softness of sand, " said John passionately. Mary felt nobody could hear her screams!

With the stars as her master, Mary wrote with pen in hand, the murmurs of her heart, the anxieties of her mind, words of one person, of one kind.

I dream of color

I dream of dolor

I hear voices of all but my own

Universes vast and powerful

Create my thoughts?

Gray clouds of night, Reveal my sentiment

I have always loved in vain?

Now I beseech the world to move me sane

Can't you see me, Love is me

I fear loneliness, I fear me

I fear being lost at sea.

The first cut is the most brilliant

Life is fading, I am no longer resilient.

The young lady, at the tender age of 25, closed her book of red and ebony. She took her nails and dug them deep into the lines of her palms; blackish red blood protruded through her fingers, dripping to the ground, sounding like footsteps, Mary heard a sudden sound! She raised her head. There was John, pale as a white ghost, as if he risen from the dead! In an instant, like how miracles occur, life was no longer a question, but life was an intuition.

John said in words of simple vernacular "Mary girl, I felt in my heart that there was some trouble with you, is everything alright? I had a horrible dream and I went for a walk and I saw you! "

Mary looked at him, the blood of her hands swam in his eyes, John saw the pain, that pain that never dies.

John heard the screams of her soul, her saw the light of her vice, the secret of her virtue, the madness of her mind, the strength of her softness, he understood her and he loved her. He walked her to her room and whispered "goodnight."

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Patrick White

All That I Could Wish For You

All that I could wish for you or anyone else
is more than I could attain for myself.
So far from home for so long
as if home were the alibi
that put the distance between me and a lie
I got sick of telling myself
to feel I belonged somewhere to some people
who might look up from the compass
of what they’re doing once and awhile
into the thirty-six years of my absence
and care that I’m not there anymore.
So I wish you a door that opens
before you need to knock.
And a thief in a window you leave unlocked
so he can steal your heart like sterling silver
and pawn it off as moonlight.
I suspect most people are way too clever
to ever be loved the way they want to be
and I’m not saying that I’ve never been graced
by the mystery
of waking up beside someone I loved
dreaming next to me
about things I know nothing of
because love keeps its deepest secrets to itself
like water on the moon
but I wish you the purest of fountains
from the sweetest wellsprings of life
that don’t look upon the reflections of the clouds
or the leaves and birds that come to sip from its glass
as just another mouthful of polluted words
indelible as headlines
disposable as trash.
My light’s been bent
by a lot of black holes and gravitational eyes
in the five billion light years it’s taken to get here
like a past I almost forgot I had
and I’m not saying that’s bad
though it’s relatively slow
compared to the speed of thought
that overtook it like a hawk
coming down on a morning dove.
But I wish you the immensity of a clear night sky
it will take you forever to disappear in
because of all the things
you can learn to say good-bye to in this world
the hardest farewell to master is love.
I’ve always been grateful
for the gifts I’ve been given
and endeavoured like any other B.C. salmon
to make a gift of a gift
by swimming upstream
like a waterclock doubling back on its way to the sea.
Like the retrograde motion of Mars
there may be loops and nooses and garottes in my orbit
and small raw pieces of my heart I used
to bait the trapline
to catch and skin the fishers
that kept killing my cats when I lived on a farm
not very far from here
without meaning any harm to the wildlife
that accepted me as one of their own
and like I did them
left me alone.
Except for the fishers.
So I wish you a free passage through life
where every breath you take
adds another inch of feather to the wind
like a mindstream flowing into an older river of stars
with wild irises blooming along its banks
like blue flames of hydrogen
that stick their tongues in each others’ ears
as if they had something to say to one another
like lovers and celestial spheres
and oceans in a seashell
not well-intentioned highways lined with roadkill
like the primrose path to hell that most of us take
like a short cut back to a worse mistake
than the one we made to get here.
Most of my life
I’ve felt like a fluke of the truth
that was able to win out against
the astronomical odds
of my small chances of having the courage
to stand up for it like a strong voice
in a lottery of echoes
but fortunately I’ve always been
self-destructive enough
to risk everything in the name of nothing
I’ve ever seen
but sensed was near and clear to me
like a warm spring rain on a dirty window pane
like the gardens of ice
that grew out of my breath
like the tendrils of ferns unfurling
like the treble clefs of blue violins
in a sad exiled place
where the truth was music to my ears
that fell like the sound of rain from home on my roots
but felt like all the shattered chandeliers and broken mirrors
had gone into diaspora.
A crystal nacht of jackboots
refused to see the whole
reflected in every part of me as in them
like the yellow star
of the myriad-eyed conspiracy theory
that out shone the black hole they wanted to bury it in
like something you could catch
and put in your pocket
and save for a rainy day
like a ghetto or a bank to bail you out
whenever they got so fanatically deep into themselves
everything they felt
everything they had to say
was a debt to someone
they couldn’t possibly repay
even if they could turn
the bad luck of their swastikas the other way
like the prayer wheel of a poisonous flower
like hate mail disguised as a loveletter
even the wind and the light refused to answer.
So I wish you the mindscape and spirituality
of a generous country with a big sky
where the constellations have no nationality
other than free access to the great sea of awareness beyond
that reflects all the colours of the colour blind stars
and makes them feel they’ve made it home
as soon as their light arrives
like honey bees without borders
to open the flowers
like the passports of Japanese plum blossoms
that travel without i.d. anywhere they want
like the billions upon billions of fingerprints
that never lie about our common humanity
to anyone who needs to ask
who we all belong to
if it isn’t each other
and where we all come from
if it wasn’t from the same dark mother.
Poetry has been the most ardent folly of my crazy wisdom
for as long as I’ve known how to weep and wonder
in joy and sorrow
at the mystery and the horror
of what’s arrayed before us here
with such immensity
even time feels small in its presence.
Keats once said load every rift with ore
and so I have
but the greatest discipline of my calling
the gravest risk
the royal quatternio of Orphic alchemy
in the hands of a master shapeshifter
in the smile of a sacred clown
has been to approach the shining
without turning gold into a base metal.
To taste the water without fouling the well I drew it from.
To look at the stars without getting in their eyes.
To pursue an earthly excellence
that expressed the human divinity
that was born of suffering in everyone
without giving offense to the transcendentalists
who like to keep their gods unattainable
because I could see its immanence
was a lot closer to them
than they were to it.
I could see it in the hunch-back baglady
sorting through a garbage can at four in the morning
for the hidden jewel she was sure to find
if she looked deep enough.
I could see it in myself from time to time
when my mind strayed like a white horse
with an odd-shaped birthmark
in the middle of its forehead
because it wasn’t born lucky enough to be a logo
into the star fields of my reclusive neighbour
like the constellation Pegasus
through a gap in a fallen fence
and she was there to lead it back like a muse
along the Road of Ghosts
and you could tell by the smile on her face
that she’d always met me this way
and that there was nothing supernatural
in what she wasn’t trying to hide.
I can see it in you like light in a lamp
that isn’t cagey enough to keep a dove in
even if it wanted to
and it’s as clear as fireflies on a starless night
that it can’t and it won’t and it doesn’t.
So I wish for you a long love affair
with a passion you can’t marry.
A calling that doesn’t have your name on it
because it doesn’t belong to anyone
but loves the sound of your voice in the stairwell
whether you’re coming or going
and the picture-music you set it to
like morning glory on the moon
to let life speak through you in dead earnest
as if you were wholly possessed by the play
of the hero’s entrance
and the villain’s exit
though you know they’re both taking
a standing ovation in the same doorway.
I wish you the sublimity of a single blade of grass
and a darkness as profound as the shadow of an ant
and a heart like a bell of sorrows so sweet and deep
even in a single tear
it’s way out of its depths.
And in the evening just before the stars come out
and Venus is following
the last crescent of the moon
down in the west
having wandered as far as it dares from the sun
I wish you a soul so expansive and radiant with light
all the nights to come can’t help making
enlightened gestures of glee
toward the court jesters
who illuminate your crown with laughter
like waterlilies that shine up at everyone
out of their dark wisdom
and their artistic genius for working with water
like a Zen master amusing himself
with paper boats that float
like the moon on the mindstream
knowing there’s nowhere to go
nothing to do
no one to be
and no one to set free.
Because the people all know
there’s never been a river
that doesn’t lead to the sea
or a hand or a brush or a pen
following its own cursive script
like the holy book of a lost art
that isn’t written in blood
but makes itself up as it flows along
like a spiral galaxy without a star map
all the way to the heart.
And once the lightning’s rooted in your mind
and blossoms like fireflies
in a garden of insight
I wish you never a thought
whatever the mode of expression
whatever the fashion
whatever the theme
the scheme
the dream
that doesn’t tend like all lucidity
to sweeten the fruits of compassion.

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