Friday, October 21, 2022

Still Life with Surfer

For the Taygetans

Reality creates itself on a wave
Thundering to shore,
Belief so strong
It is so.

The tongues encircle as they tumble
In a roar, to overwhelm 
The others
With their love

As a final giving gesture,
With no last word.
They grind to answers,
The destitute truths,

For there is no other
To share,
The wings reach up the beach
In flippers of foam,

Gather light as tumblers turn
From the effect of
Every perspective
Elbowing in

For the sake of each passion,
As extension to their care
-- The others are jolted,
Driven away

In an almost-white pillowed buoy
That floats away to sea
For the archives to reclaim
As the distance

Between yourself
And what you see
Lengthens instead of being

For the mirrored dimensions
To become one frequency,
One shared sovereignty
Of being,

You, me, or both, together,
The lens of everything peers in there
Like the sun through
Magnifying glass 

That spills out over the water
As light just beyond the truth,
The purity of your frequency,
Its utmost confidence –

You must know it
Before you attempt
To harmonize
With everything else.

Otherwise your answers
Are found in other’s notes,
And we don’t know
What to do with them

So we fight,
We take stands
In order to divide
With sordid fisticuffs

That won’t cease their cruel
Unforgiving blossoms
For the sake of a truth
That can't bring us together

But can be hurled away
With an instant of inattention,
A lack of the slightest notation
Of how the tyrant stays.

There are plenty of waves
In the sea,
The ones you ride with,
The ones you know

Arc higher, more
Fibonacci in their curl
Of a natural order
Humans always get wrong.

The surfer surrenders
To another day,
Taking the last wave in
Like a golden ray

In this moment
That shows how there is
No time,
As suddenly

The water is still
And electric blue
As it apparently always has been
And forever will be.