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Each time has a home
That tone rings again.
Each moment, present
Each blurred vibration of a Bee's wing
Swimming in syrup air
Each now, here
Then, there
Has a home, somewhere in mind.
That beam that shone
The light of ripened day
Blushing, as it tarried in the sky
An aeon of zeptoseconds gone
The sight of a brook reflected
Perhaps, in the high troposphere
Two photons fell in love, and rejected
One fell on the opsins of my iris
Lodged, a quanta, billiard through mind
Recalibrating one synaptic charge
Recalibrating our life with lain memory
And some observer
Two stargazers separated by seas
Saw the other flee to them
That unbeknownst we forever carry
A twinned charge in the home of a now.
As from the Nile delta, inexactly
The Indus, some rake handed farmer
Gazed up to Sirius, as we gaze to Sirius now
One tangled photon, confused and lost
On a bees-path to earth has arrived at your eye
Just this past hour.
Perhaps the world's cooolest computer
Can find the weight of that thought
The knot, dense, that shaped field
That home in the mind.
Let me not speak
For I cannot now know what my words reveal
In you. I should not speak
For already the words drawn from your lungs
Ring of infection. Of desire and prayer
Combined from forms of data unaware
Let me not speak
For in my listening divine
The Divine has touched you
In silence sublime, percieve you understand
Let me not speak
I know not what is painted
From this tongue's loquacious pallette
So kaleidoscope. This lattice web thick
I cannot know which strands
Of life's single thread
Tangle being peturbed or with a tread
However softly shod
That points delicate, resound, vibrate
I cannot know how faithful is your God.
