The Path of No Path

The myst.   Perhaps the myst that surrounds us is our friend.   A brilliant creation of our own making. Traveling with us, in each and every moment.   Stalwart yet tender. Sensitive and tenacious.   Brightly colored. Chosen with love and care. Wrapping paper. Not obscuring, nor obfuscating.   Heightening each moment of discovery.   Accentuating this joyful precipice.   As we unravel the mystery.   The love, that we already are.

Leaves guided to earth Fall breeze brings colorful paint Who will count them all

Each day I get closer to knowing nothing at all. There is wonder there. Beautiful. Gentle. Like really good home made meat loaf and macaroni and cheese. No knowledge required. Just eat. Enjoy. Go back for seconds.

Boxcars bang louder Cold air making metal sing Bells of industry The rabbits ignore it all Smart rabbits

Starlight crisscrossing Delicate paths guide my mind Slugs march joyfully

To every thing there is a season, to every thing there is a purpose, … Just in the last minute at least an acre of rainforest has been destroyed. Are we certain, so damn cock sure of ourselves that in that acre of intense diverse life lived not the cure for AIDS, or Diabetes or Breast Cancer? Perhaps it matters not; it is forever lost to us. Just in the last minute at least one young person’s life has been destroyed. Are we certain so damn cock sure of ourselves that in this youth, of intense diverse life lived not the cure for AIDS, or Diabetes or Breast Cancer? Perhaps it matters not; that child is forever lost to us. How many deaths will it take till we know, That too many people have died. It matters to me.

Ideas evolve. Life evolves. No ideas are sacred, however, all life is sacred.