Of gods and bodhisattvas
Elevates art and architecture
Creating glorious beauty
Magnificent engineering
I remind myself
To love and revere every being
Every living thing as if
Each were a god or bodhisattva
I remind myself
To love and revere every being
Every living thing as if
Each were a god or bodhisattva
When the unimaginable
Becomes reasonable
Imagination soars
But for lack
Of soil and sod
What food
Could riches grow?
Stale cigarettes
And mildew
Saggy mattress
Flickering lights
Time is always active
Always present
Always changing
Only consciousness
Forgets
Or represses
Time is always moving
Cultures move on
People move on
John Steinbeck devoted a full chapter of his epic roadtrip, The Grapes of Wrath, to Route 66. Five words of that chapter — three words, really — captured everyone’s imagination. Three words.
“66 is the mother road,” wrote Steinbeck. Poetry. Evocation.
I leave a trail
I follow one
I leave a mark
I seek one
I know my place
Where I am
Where I’ve been
Where I’m going
By the markers
Something
Tantalizingly near
Excruciatingly remote
Intangibly real
Exquisitely beautiful
A mote
In the corner of one eye
Visible only
In the periphery
Invisible looking straight on