Centered
Alone in Spirit
Centered
alone in spirit,
Complete in surety of the sun’s rising,
Golden
edged clouds precede,
Sharp beams cut through sheltering branches,
Leafless in winter’s mantle of white pure snow,
The
Earth-world waits,
Teeming
with expectation.
Complexities
as diverse as those within the plant-insect domains,
Emerge
to seize the creative imagination,
Of
those who would see the truth,
Truth
as it appears within their limit of knowledge,
Information—ever
expanding,
Streaming
around the entities with fast-as-light speed,
And
broadband encompassing volume,
Devoid
of that same quality long revered,
Lacking
in preparation or experience,
Shallow
beyond all understanding,
We
grasp at old men’s ideas of new worlds—false images,
Long
since evaporated in what is.
The
Earth Community wraps itself together with electronic strands,
While barriers form,
New each day,
To be burrowed under,
Around,
Personally dissected,
Freed
in space to be caught by tiny dishes,
Relinking,
Reaffirming,
Human
ties that leap beyond language or rules on paper,
Or
those screamed on national broadcasts.
Where
is the center of the spirit?
Is
it alone any longer?
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