Numberless views —
none of them right, none
of them wrong, none of them
last when the shell cracks open
and what flows out can’t be seen.
With signature craft we each fashion
and carry our mind-made worlds
on our own bending backs,
like water bearers.
The morphing murmurs water makes —
changing in the time it takes to swirl
the view from left to right and back.
Between all notions of left and right
extends vast liquid space, oceanic,
swarming with countless atoms.
Each entangled moisture molecule
emits a subtle sound, a kind of singing
luminosity, making everything open
to reveal its own truest song.
In this revelation, we may seem to be
of form and personality, but really
we are indefinable, inconceivable.
When we are ready, when we are
empty enough, we shed all solidity
and pass through a filmy portal,
welcoming ourselves anew
to our own eternal innocence.
The fluid languages we then share
across time or any sense of distance
which once seemed to separate us
reflect a grateful receptiveness
to everything, just as it is.
Afloat within the mystery womb
of such spontaneous presence,
all naming and explaining
are rendered futile.
One by one the whisperings fade,
let the silence of the deep prevail.
Here, these words — scatter them
like crumbs over mirroring waters
to amuse the sleek aquatic forms
gliding fast below the surface,
aglow with liquid light.