A Knapsack of Truth

Truth cares not 
that a telescope
reveals a bit more 
and changes 
unknowns 
into knowns.

Now we all 
can have a knapsack 
filled with truths
truths that our ancestors 
never imagined
so here we are
the load upon our backs
but will we find happiness 
easier to come by
or kindness towards others 
easier
or empathy 
for those hurting around us
an empathy 
that translates into actions
actions 
to make wrongs right? 

Science gives us this knapsack 
but can we be wise 
with newfound truths
when it becomes so easy 
to exploit 
the entire earth 
for the sake 
of our short-lived 
comfort? 

Science can't answer 
these ultimate questions 
of human motives
for science 
doesn't care. 

Gratefully some scientist 
do care
but if as some wish 
for the future 
a world without religion
then I wonder
will any then be left 
that remember 
what caring 
for those that are hurting
really means?

First the Big Bang

First the Big Bang.

Then a chain
of a zillion causes
and effects.

And here you are
with that backpack
of ‘all time’ on your back.

And every breath you take
is that which moves you
into
the ever present.

And you ask,
now what?

Beyond Monkey Business

Matter is dumb
yet springs forth
from dumbness
intelligence
found inside
the very
bits and
pieces
when
pieced together
just so.

Where does
this manifestation
come from?

From complexity
built upon
simplicity
and simplicity
built upon
a potential
beyond
monkey
business.

In the Beginning

In the beginning
no time
sprang to
time
and evolution
started
and in time
produced us.

Then we
lived
and thought
about all this
then we died.

Then all was
silent
and time became
no time
again.

If a tree fell ...

The tree falls
and the air vibrates
in silence
with not an ear
in sight.

Autumn Leaves of Green

In summer when we seek comfort
under those trees that work mightily
to deflect and reject
the cool greens
and stand tall with leaves shimmering
with the absorbed reds and golds
yet it takes autumn
for us to realize
what summer held
when in turn
those trees
of grandeur
finally accept that tiny slice
of the electromagnetic spectrum
that we call green
hidden to our eyes
dazzled by
the now rejected waves
of reds
and golds.

More or Less

We live between 
the nothing more 
and the nothing less
bologna 
between slices of bread
and like sacred words 
to be consumed 
chewed
champed 
munched 
and the less 
becomes more
and the more 
becomes less.

Creator of the Universe

Creator of the universe
are the building blocks
one by one
assembling into this
disassembling into that
again and again
we too for a bit
assembled into this
and later changed 
into that
and Jesus too
a creator
of the universe
just like me
and you
too.

Autumn Leaves of Green

In summer when we seek comfort 
under those trees that work mightily 
to deflect and reject 
the cool greens 
and stand tall with leaves shimmering 
with the absorbed reds and golds
yet it takes autumn 
for us to realize 
what summer held 
when in turn 
those trees 
of grandeur 
finally accept that tiny slice 
of the electromagnetic spectrum 
that we call green
hidden to our eyes 
dazzled by 
the now rejected waves 
of reds 
and golds.

Fishing in a Sea of Sand

Years ago I viewed a Zen rock garden
with not a petunia in sight
just sand
raked into swirling patterns
of the sea
and a few large rocks
here and there
I guessed then
they represented islands
the sand
the watery sea
with the raked swirls
which created the metaphor
in my head
of watery sea
and not
bone-dry sand.

I returned a few times
to that garden
once watching a solemn monk
carefully dragging a rake
as he first made a course
around one large rock
then the others
he seemed to have
the courses
already memorized
for he dragged
that rake
as I recall.

I used to push a lawnmower
in my youth.
In the backyard
I cut the lawn
not as my older brother did
in careful overlapping rows
but I would push
that old lawnmower
in circles and swirls
and zigzags
anything
but in straight lines.

It was fun
drawing with a lawnmower
I would stop to admire
the meandering course
cut through the tall grass
but in the end
I would always do
a quick
back-and-forth
to clip the tall grass
before my father
returned home
from work.

The Buddhist
dragging the rake
didn't appear
to be having
much fun
not as much fun
as I had
pushing
a heavy
lawn
mower.

Then
I wondered
why?

Rock On

When the creator departs town
taking care
and concern
and desire too
all that is left
behind
goes the way
of all that is forgotten
former complexity
seeks its origins
constructs destruct
bricks turn to dust
old men rock in chairs
awaiting the youth
of their mind
to rock
once again.

Wind Chimes

Wind chimes 
did I hear?
my eyes closed
and my outdoor chair
creaks as I adjust
myself again
thoughts of 
a long ago 
late summer breeze
filled with funky smells
of rice paddies
that surround my way
and the dragonflies
hovering, darting
while rivulets of sweat 
stream down my back
and the air filled with the crazy 
whaa-whaa-whaaahaaahaaahaaahaaa
of countless 
hidden 
cicada.