Sun and Space

Control is now out of control:
I'm starting to see the lid
Between the primate and the spiritual,
The arts of war and sciences of justice.

The sun is not a criminal
And what it shows is real;
I don't have to be blinded by shadow and glare,
I don't have to keep looking away, or at my shoes,
I am equal to all
And it's all there to be viewed
Without falling short,
Nothing missing,
Nothing needing to be hidden.

The grasses golden
The spines haloed
The glowing weeds releasing seeds
That grow just where they're needed
And die at the right time.

Though the eyes
May not believe
They are worthy
To receive,
There is room
In the lights' vistas
For all

It's the whole
That makes one safe
Among the details.