JONATHON CLARK on 3/16/2023 12:52:50 PM wrote

Cautions of skepticism and it’s ease

A whole world of trust issues
bi-polar where both poles themselves
are bi-polar, confused
at whom to trust, skepticism is a satisfying elixir
the drink of easy friends. A fork in the road
it appears commingling the sun and fields of grain

“It all depends on the camera angle.”
is announced over the background of classical piano
a raindrop suite splashed upon our dry face
that we didn’t have a good angle on it is subsumed in peace
the summer smell of algae while fishing under the overpass.
Fish-like, our eyes escaped from traffic and are absorbed
in the crescendo of noise

Alone in the eagles circle joined
by the archetier of hellion, hired by the lily pad
grown deep from the silt of
generations of frogs and pollywog tails like
fruiting bodies, inky caps. Staining the petals
of the water lily. Still and waiting for it’s own
green bee, to sneak by, when the sun ordains.

The moment of pollination
obscured by a dream-like state
the camera could never capture it.
Our faculties fail.
Skeptical scowls are permitted
we release hands with faith in our own past
the cliff we watched from crumbles
we grow wings instead of falling
they glide on silence, embrace the self
transcend the need to be better
a good idea contingent on solipsism

worse things have wings to fly
to float is easy. Never seeing beneath
where goldfish play and delight in currents
our angle reveals the twisting fluid fins
currents that shed no ripple into our reflection.
It shows our smile and we delight again
in the sensation of seeing it.

God in us and the smoothness of water
this watches over our wish for human progress.

Stochastic equilibrium is the shading of forgetfulness
waking between dreams to protect ourselves
with blankets and small rations of food, becoming
self-defined. Winds unbroken by the forests shield
they move our happy vessel mere inches. Adventure
a greater source with the ageless battle of flowers.

The happy people sit on the banks skipping stones as
sinuous swimmers wait to dine on the peaceful doe.
Rising to the surface skeptical that anything less than
blood will do. Sardonic the memory of what you had
and what you lost, but that is just the past.

The present shines; don’t forget take caution
at the ease of skepticism and become the water lily
opening it’s bright eye to see the iridescent
miracle of life for a blink of a dream
The fluid epiphany of nature.