I stand alone
in a state of nature
in an open field
on a mountaintop
beyond tghe fork
I paint the frailty of spring
dream in subtle glints of snow
when all the while
to tunes of the wind
I sing.
I stand alone
in a garden of roses
in a flooded marsh
on a pebbled shore
beyond the fork
I'm a giddy bumblebee
a stoic-stanced egret
a weathered dream treasure trove
and to riffs of the wind
I sing.
I am the joy
of sentience
of all things
a fleeting space
a touch away
fron infinity.
In the other direction
matrices of signs and symbols
equation predicted nature
all-encompassing
Nobel Laureate stuff
Einstein and Pavlov
invalidating
all who dream.
Engineered nature pegged
to sets and subsets
urges and fixations
instincts and reactions
suppressing the spirit.
Identity
a single lifetime
pinned to a body
of certain death
and no future.
Rock, planet, atmosphere,
plant, ocean, animal,
man, child and gene
disemboweled
the same and soulless.
The woof and warp
of a world
fleshed machine.
Like Frost
how glad I am
I chose the fork
less traveled.
~
Copyright 2010 Francis Don Daniels.
All Rights Reserved.
