Tag: symmetry

Wondering (day 2899)

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I wondered how many stars could align
How many mistakes I could ever make
I wondered if there was any way in the world
I could ever make sense of what I could not learn.

I wondered if there was beautiful symmetry
In the colours that lay upon Bumble Bees back
I wondered if Tree had the consciousness
To let out its needles and drop all its leaves.

I wondered how Weeds felt blowing in the wind
I wondered how Evening felt always chasing the day
I wondered how Birds felt calling out in vain
And on everything dust settles like snow and the rain.

Water (day 1482)

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This heart, this heart,
So crisp and clear,
No honesty is left unsaid,
No crevice left unfed.
Hastily moving in torrential exalt
From heavens above
To earth, far below.
And in this journey –
Over cliffs and through ponds,
Your kindness forgets no soul,
No hand left out to dry.
No creature, living nor dead,
Escapes your kind flow,
Effortlessly flowing abundantly
In a perfect example of life.
Symmetry.
And mine toes! They’re freedom!
When dipped in your stead.
No greater feeling alive,
Nor consistently fed
Then your bounty to my bread.

Green and Busy (day 1241)

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It’s bewildering how all the
Little kids are dressed in green.
They’re wearing foreign flags and
Scrambling about in some kind of
Scatterbug formation.
It makes me think of the years I spent in ‘Nam.
– And coincidentally a delicious restaurant
Round the corner from here.
Chopsticks between eyes and arrows
And fabrics that tell me not to bring these new habits home.
I’m watching them with curiosity, the kids,
As they make their way about the grounds
Busier than all the ants of the world.
Hands flailing in some random forms of symmetry
That builds to an ecstatic culminations of sorts.
And then I get busy and pants with arrows pointing South
Cross my paths leaving home-job manicured
French poodles pissing about,
Confusing the tiny combat warriors.

Green and Busy (day 1218)

ned Leave a comment

Little kids are all dressed in green.
They’re wearing foreign flags and
Scrambling about in some kind of
Scatterbug formation.
It makes me think of the years I spent in ‘Nam
– And incidentally a delicious restaurant
Round the corner from here.
Chopsticks between eyes and arrows
And fabrics that tell me not to bring these new habits home.
I’m watching them with curiosity
As they make their way about the grounds
Busier than all the ants of the world.
Hands flailing in some random forms of symmetry
That builds to eruptic culminations.
And then I get busy and pants with arrows pointing South
Cross my paths leaving home-job manicured
French poodles pissing about,
Confusing the tiny combat warriors.