Wednesday, October 5, 2016

Silence at Maha'aleupo

They say the last white man
       Who'd fled to Nihoa
                     Is gone,
And the faces on the cave
       Were obsolesced
                   In return,
But they are still here
       And I am still here
               Looking on,

And the black rocks have their art
       And still speak in a voice
          Heard by ancient fishermen
That promised secret knowledge
       If one could wear the crown
          Of knowing form was only masking light.

The conscious color won't
       Collapse like other facts
               Into theories of mind
But is pitched at zero point,
       Knowledge not for learning
               But for action.

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