Waves arose with the stirring of wind on a surface
reflecting clouds, sky and mountains piled like time
though they had no effect on what I thought
when fresh sounds of breakers arrived
It was easy to forget the way
seeing was believing in depth percepts of dimension and content
reality structured like a cold or hot field illusion
an entanglement of echoes
temporal shadows serving for climbers climbing over others
striving for life in attics in pinnacles of power
Jesus asked what profit has a man if he gains the world and loses his
own soul?
Saying as well that those saving their life would lose it
and losing it for His sake find it
where the world is a maze of temporal avenues, individual cul de sacs
and round abouts of reason wearing out
like voiceovers of personal doubt by the world-for-others moving on
The way is white noise and silence together
building everything upon nothing
a mud puddle, a tree; the long and winding road
populated with no one interested in meaning
when driving somewhere through a social network
has solely tolls of lost opportunity costs
collected like leaves gathered unto dust
with the sun setting low in the sky
when stars seem to appear through the rising twilight
leading to the night
continuum of deep appearance
that was farther away at first light
drawing closer like a Universal wall of meaning
when depth perceptions and dimensions
inflate to a fuller congruence with time and space
The shock of understanding isn't so much as a lightening bolt
a trillion synaptic clicks of ideas put together with bits
like brilliant and blinding sunrise
unconcerned with anything except the realization of the love of God
structuring holistic complexity
a resurrection of temporal light surging beyond oblivion-
the shore of non-being infiltrated everywhere
with everything existing a denial of the nothingness
forever breaking down and reclaiming what is and what becomes memory
-something without oneself
that one is too young to recognize
or too old to hold on to
as life and everything breathing slips away
the personal end of the Universe-for-oneself before the
Universe-for-others
the Lord is the hope in faith passing over the final nihilism
that the proud have sought to wrap as a cloak upon beingness
for-themselves.
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