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Time’s Eternal Consciousness

Time’s natural spaces,
a universe of footprints in remembered places.

Need is a kick in the ass and head.
Dissonance is afterflow,
undertow,
crashing cart with runaway horsepower.

Want is a binomial step into time,
co-operatively left-producing and right-consuming
memory footprints on the beach of time,
some more resonant and resolved
before erasing surf re-emerges,
and some less formed before washing into history’s cultural flow
of confluent wild consciousness.

Time bilaterally surfs
sands of positive place in negative space,
resolving comprehensive consciousness.

Footprints in the sands of time
regenerate decomposing memory
within nature’s wild chaos of flowing rhyme.

As we have no time without space
we experience no yin without yang
we coincidate no perfect vacuum
no perfect bad,
no perfect good
save well-timed balance between these appositionals,
except our potential for comprehensive harmonious consciousness
in mind with heart
and informing and exforming lungs
fueled by nature’s DNA intelligence.

Our shortages of universal intelligent time,
our misconceptions of potentially balancing spacetime consciousness
lead to suicidal
patricidal
fratridical
matridical
tidal footprints into quicksand’s chaos,
revolving karmic grace
for tomorrow’s regenerating beach
awaiting more transgenerationally resonant feet
and hands,
hearts and minds
surfing seasoned time
with permacultural wisdom.

Time flows and folds frequent nature’s voice
for each to hear with dissonant contentious noise
or listen in key of confluent contenting choice.

Time’s permacultural space,
universal footprints in memory’s conscious place.

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Silent Psalm

I long to write a silent song;

ringing resonant rising

round revolving reach,

risk relaxing riots,

quiet storming streams,

sentient string

waiting your

our

sharing story,

advent’s adventure

deep despair diving

diastolic drifting

out beyond sonorous sea seasons

sweeping flight to gather might,

speaking slyly deep

down steaming volcanoed channels

reaching roots of listening

into Earth’s core chi-soul.

 

Speak, justly shout enchanting contention

churning charry content,

informating reasons

fine-purposed meanings

boiling funnel tipping

turning spinning

spilling waves of Tao balance

revolving temperamental cross,

straining yang from West to East

reversing yin from East to West

like longing lingering

loitering within belonging

becoming being

yin’s right spins left

good’s evil space

wrestling voices

murmuring

pulsing

massaging rhythm’s blood flows

flying frequencies

echoing past identities

of storms still-dancing

through memory’s veins

and river swollen

spring’s raucous roaring

songs singing silence

I long to write.

 

 

 

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Mute Longing

I belong to your vistas

your panoramic places

older than our Voice.

 

Toddlers listen to

memorize your scent as this day’s time

your shadows, curves, slopes, curls

a panoply of nature’s sacred places

shaping spaces for mind’s rest

imagining your view as mine

to play or hide

or grow smaller

or dance

sounds of buzz and chatter,

clack and clatter,

august synapse

resounding crash of tipping gravity,

move, shift, roar, hunt…

resting silently again.

 

Behind my breath

I hear yours

then ours together

echoing before this Voice

interrupts my holonic bath,

within long intimate horizons,

vast belonging songs.

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