Apricocks... Be kind and courteous to this gentleman; Hop in his walks and gambol in his eyes; Feed him with apricocks and dewberries, With purple grapes, green figs, and mulberries; The honey-bags steal from the humble-bees, And for night-tapers crop their waxen thighs And light them at the fiery glow-worm's eyes, To have my love to bed and to arise; -Shakespeare: Midsummer Night's Dream
Monday, September 3, 2012
Intangible
Intangible
Always it has struck me as so
That time and space are not
Real though they be mindful constructs
Of our imagination as our
Perception is all there is I think
So that when I recall my loves
Lost in the recesses of unreality
Like almost remembered dreams
They exist like mist from the sea
Are no less than robed and sandaled
Genderless people of the past
Walking the streets of Athens and Nara
No less the music of Faure and Satie no less
The Haiku of Dogen and Basho
Not lost in the bulldozing that the contemporary
World does to nature and to humanity
As greed and profit and progress so called
Sweep away the sweet and the sweetbitter
In the quest for material success and
Work that is void of meaning
Like the empty spaces in the ruins
Of the Parthenon the empty space of
Shinto shrines
Time and space are hard illusions
The loves intangible that penetrated us
Are not
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