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perhaps it is my fate
to stand atop the mountain
calling my truths to the soundless snow
keeping firewatch in the summer
tapping out coordinates
to the air

for i have been down among the people
with their eyes shut, none listening
past the voice inside their head—
we cannot teach those who refuse to learn
and how we have lost our curiosity

we allow our souls to be trampled
by money, drugs, others, and ourselves
forgetting that we all have hands and legs
that we are all wandering sculptors
art behind every open eye

art is our transformation of the world
an analysis and resynthesis
a joke no one wants to explain
bathed in a context which may have slipped
far from your own. we are so versatile
but we are all human

we must realize what we call our self
is only a part of a larger organism—
imagine how we would laugh
if our blood cells asked each other
how are you today

~*~

we are born empty and immediately
the world rushes in to fill us up—
but we are so large inside
that anyone who remains open
cannot be filled

and our minds were not created
for the tasks we set them upon now—
we must learn to overcome ourselves,
to do in software what our hardware
was not designed to do

our greatest strength and weakness
that each generation must learn it all again—
these paradoxes speak to our limitations
as well as our potential

the way children see the world
makes me wonder if we are really
so far from dreaming after all—
each of us carrying around
their own little bad copy
of the world

~/~

and why is it all like this?
because these are the rules—
we are pieces in a game
greater than any we have ever dreamed
awash with subsystems and causal chains—
particles, materials, plants, animals, planets, stars,
and vast amounts of nothing

we have traced the great trunks
and many of the fine branches of the world tree
but there is so much yet to be done
we are only beginning to learn our power
and responsibility

and if you despair
that every beautiful thing is only a moment
amid a sea of chaos, a glimmer
destined for gross annihilation—
know that every beautiful thing is a rock thrown in that sea
whose ripples spread outward
and recombine