Above Earth, Below Sky, There Is No I
There is richness in our thirst,
And hunger, as we explore them,
Poorness in our natures abundance,
Moving us to awe.
There are Amazonian panther paths,
No man should tread,
And highways of destruction
Our space junk, orbiting Earth,
Will wrought on our satellites, and it.
That must abound light
Allows nature fallow
For future growth, so too
Our weeded out thoughts
Create space for their unshadows.
As in poetry, betwixt words
Weaving paths of study,
Between the lines, flowing
Within its own rhythms, rhymes,
A birthplace is divined,
A twig of poetree to be,
Becomes in chrysalis.
Is it Legged, winged, spirit, soul,
You evoking, who knows?
Clarity, that finest of illusions,
A sword that cuts all ways,
Without, for there is no cutting,
Can inform or misdirect.
So, it is also a pointless point,
If our perception is
Thwarted by false-ego.
Not grasp or let go,
It is all we know,
Feelings, reeling in living art.
As Reality unburdening
Our shoulders to it,
And extending a hand,
So wee will give it a whirl,
Unbeckons us to be
As such with wind,
And on wing,
Challenge :) No Frills; with K.C.
© 2015 reality1
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