holding all current
in crystalline
magnification,
Shifting with each foot,
and with all
knowledge
of the frequency being
above the sole
instantly received and
balanced
with the rest
Collecting sand
While we, the humans,
don't even know
to bow down
in honor
and try to learn
a grain of what it knows:
Every touch it was ever bequeathed
and the meaning of each
recorded,
every directive of source
through its legions
ordered
carried out
In perfect military simplicity,
it would be
for us
too much
to experience
Except in times like these
when the wind rustles
more
than one wants
and the palms
Send their bolts
to the heart
of everything
dying, never born,
never existing
or not existing,
The whole of who we are
rising instead of the sun,
Still blinding,
blinding.
