The glory and grief and paradoxical paradoxes
The permeances of infinite glories straddling grim darkness
The battles and the longing; the loves and the hates
The grand design, the moments in time
and the space
I'm just dwelling here in essence, got nothing to fear.
Neither the man in the brace, not the dark skin lady of the same race, nor the
Bolshevik with cossack hat and beaten about face.
'Nothing to fear but the thing itself' say wise women and men down the corridors
Dusty, cobwebbed and ever-recurrent
The whole goddam thing.
Me. Them. This table. That movement. This tick and reasons we give it a label
Progress, regress, my address - or lack of it
The future, the past, the fleeting never ending trail of sequentious, sequatious,
'nows', vexatious - that never last; the words and the music that make a man and a woman's hearts sing.
I'm talkin here about the whole goddam thing
Interaction with IT right now, assiting, interfacing, though it don't need my help
For, it IS.
My consciousness in direct, unabashed interaction with biology
In the shape, or non-shape, like the hollow hole and the exterior motion ring
...talkin' bout the whole goddam thing
Mandlebrot, Lorenz and the butterfly sting; the fractally factual and reality of the
Never Ending
Reccurrence of theme into perceived eternity
Ongoing and flowing and beautifully hardly seen
The palette to mould, the marble to carve, the easel to fill and the paintbrush to charge
and the vessel to juice from the tug to the barge
"Have it large, have it large!" hear them old geezers sing
Got a feeling the'ye chimin in about the whole goddam thing
And in my flash of lightness 'pon the hour of my sting
Divine mystery,
This soul
Is the Peace that i bring
