No Great Matter

We live in a storm
of imagined form.
How clear, we see the light
(while surrounded by the night!)
From how far behind us
has it come?
We wonder.

How does it follow?
Who's who?
What's what,
and what-not?

On a biggish bang
we look back.
It's a nick nack,
a brick-a-brack,
as serious as a heart attack.
An infarction of information,
it is in formation,
an accident, an incident
insentient in intent,
intransigent.

It belies
the skies.

We know not no!

We are sated
encapsulated,
restrained, contained,
instincted, ingrained.

In being and knowing
the passing thing
and the painful sting,
we capitulate and grant
that matter is all import(ant).

What a falling-off is there.

It is, that's all.
What matter?

This is.
This is so.
So, what?

This microcosmic macrame,
it is (k)not binding on me.
Neither will this
body of mass, a measure,
of vacancy in the ether
ever matter, either.

You say not so?
Why not?
No now is now known.
What next?

iconimago

unspoken

seer, seeing seen,
sleep, sleeper, sleeping
are all one.

mysterious, her mercy is
beyond understanding,
quietus.

a simple circle,
0 - a ring
signifing nothing.
not only zero, though
but also
a day, a month,
a year, a lifetime,
our Sun, our Moon!

in the solar eclipse
on this day
they couple,
making love
and a bright ring.

in a fortnight,
the moon will be
overshadowed.

clockwork time.
22, 23...
solstice and equinox
51, 52...
weeks and years
come walking in
a forgotten way.

She visits!
in dream.
i awake,
myself
in a forgotten way.

overshadowed.

iconimago