Gestalt

April 15, 2009
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I came to a man
Who said to me

“The present is the future
Cloaked in the garment
Of the most ancient past”

“The past is comprised
Of thousands of blue flower petals
Floating up the Nile River”

“And the past is wandering leaves
Traveling within the wind
Only to feel its caress
And enjoy aimless travels”

“And the past is the sun
In the dawn of days
That rises still higher
And smiles upon the earth”

“The past is the smoke
Of blazing fires
That rise into the stars”

“And the roots that remain
Firmly in the ground
While the tree reaches the sky
Are telling of the past”

“And the past is a song
Sung by the crashing waves
In the deepest seas”

“And the bee that would search
For a place without
Rather than with
It’s most precious honey
Is the past”

“And the past is also
The bird that soars
Among the clouds
Without its trusted wings”

And of him I asked,
“But what of the time
Not yet woken by the seasons?”

“What of the turtle
That hides inside its shell?”

“And what of the waterfall
That crashes down
From the tallest mountain
That gazes at the moon?”

“What happens to the fruit
Not yet picked by ripeness?”

“And where goes the flesh
When buried within the earth?”

“What happens to the snow
When the sun awakes
From its pleasant reverie
Of the falling rain?”

To me he responded,
“You would ask me of things
That swim in far off lakes
And wander in distant deserts,
But what of the sand beneath you
And the full chalice you bear?”

“The night is but a shadow
Of the living day”

“In the past lived the future
And together they embraced
And formed the present”

“The seed of a fruit
Is the same as the fruit
For in it do you find
Another tree, another seed,
And another fruit.”

And so I said,
“Little did I know,
Brother of mine,
Of that which you spoke,
But now I understand.
That we speak the same language.”





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