The cherry blossoms are departing and the lilacs in the
dooryard are in deepest purple bloom. Fantastic tales are told by every latest
leaf.
An absolute and unknown sun of pure awareness is reflecting
in the moon of mind within the silent midnight sky of universal consciousness.
O wonder of that heavenly intent, now this moon is full upon
the passing of its fourteen days of evolution, or it's fourteen million years,
depending how you measure. There is nothing one can do but
bask within the light and watch as earthly shadows are directed.
Last night I woke within a dream as if rogue runaway
thoughts had been impersonating the solar unnamed one, usurping its subjective
singularity,
forgetting its intent, and doing everything it does to keep
itself in insubstantial, incongruous, alienating motion.
But even such absurdity is powered by the simple way and sees in
time surrendering is all the motivational free will it owns instead.
And resting in that unknown hour between the darkness
and the dawn, the moon is shining free and knowing in its boundless springtime
bed.
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