Poetry, Man

AS WE RECENTLY WROTE ABOUT ACHILLES HEEL, fruitful ways forward are rarely revealed unless we seek what is weak in the system. Every renegade knows that they must eventually expose the limitation of apparent perception. All givens must be ruthlessly questioned. Tomorrow is never certain, so to pull back the curtain we need to shake our innate poet tree. When the world is wound up in words we can escape to this higher place and view the herd caught up in processes not yet understood. We move ahead by going way back to the origins that delight erudition. Fresh vision bursts forth from precarious conditions that forever elude full description for what we look with is never really seen since what sees is all that there is. The unsaid is what ultimately thrives. Its silent haiku is the drive seeding emptiness into full blooming. Futile as it may seem, again and again we return to the scene to scale the ungraspable mountain, taking another chance to evoke the vast dance that melts into pure wordless presence.