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On the Move October 1, 2015

Posted by wimynspeak in Absurd Shorts, General.
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The tree waited until no one was looking and then he made his move. He wasn’t in a hurry, so the fact that his big move was a matter of measure so small as to be unrecognizable to all but the most scientifically and specially schooled was irrelevant. He knew that humans measured time and distance as if they were fixed and immutable, but the tree had a much different relationship to reality.

And he was ever so patient.

In truth, though, patience was not the real key, although it helped. The real key was trust . . . trusting that even if he, himself, did not achieve the goal in his lifetime, the goal would yet be met by one of his descendants, an off-shoot of himself. In fact, the tree didn’t even know the ultimate goal at all, just knew that his job was to stay centered, grounded, and to trust that there was a bigger picture that would one day be revealed to him . . . or not.

In any case, he continued to take tiny, infinitesimal steps, ever on the move while yet appearing stationery, doing nothing to upset the fragile humans who counted on his stability, his treeness.

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∞ Chrysalis July 1, 2015

Posted by wimynspeak in Collaboration, General.
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Link to the video: ∞ Chrysalis

 

I sleep and dream the passing of time,

stars and worlds arising in an unremarkable march of eons,

destiny’s static hum.

And then . . . and then . . .

The awakening,

and consciousness is punctuated at last

by one thought like no other,

moving slowly along the continuum of infinity,

its seeds carried on celestial winds

to the cataclysm where chaos reigns.

 

Life paints with a palette of impossibility

and emerges from the imaginal soup

into the garden of the Universe,

the still-point of passion.

The container, fashioned from the contained,

spins back on itself in fertile mutation.

Caught in a star shower,

it regenerates in the empty center,

filling it with before and after:

the solidity of form.

 

I am both the watcher and the watched,

caught in the watching

as the march of eons converges with the dream

and I dissolve once again into the still-point,

the cycles of eternity.

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