since the universe is everywhere, where is the one and the
many?
(an anniversary poem on my mother's death)
What will be found as she opens up,
will creatures of decay
herald revelry
for other births that wait inside?
Many things here are unexplored
and unexplained,
but in death, explode
beyond parts and circumstance
into new possibilities.
*
Does Karma wait in the wings and say,
"Let the show begin"?
Are scripts shredded like threads,
then, stitched back together again?
Past threads of mine and thine,
past laments at fractured cavities,
our bodies pass away from us,
even as we expand past our bodies.
Cast as everyone, we are everywhere.
Cast as everywhere, we are everything,
The potencies and latencies we see
are affirmed, denied
and played out by a Single Mind,
our lives, its ebbs and flows.
Scribes are we, of such a Mind.
*
And so it goes,
from dream to dream,
and life to life,
from thoughts enlivened,
to lives awakened,
proclivities abound,
no seed thoughts now, weigh us down
neither birth nor death awaits us.
*
We spin through the spheres.
Stellar stuff flies everywhere.
