If consciousness is precious, if consciousness is everywhere if accepted a lie as truth, if placed arrogance before tranquility and egotism over humility, threads will unravel to show us how petty we are. Our consciousness is precious if we broaden our awareness. If we kindly protect the essence of what is, even before it has thrived, awareness in ripples expands; creativeness explodes, lingers as unconditional love, when saturated provokes pain. Little do we know, ecstasy is our limit, beauty our horizon, awe our path, even if broken, our traces found in fractals will reveal fruitful patterns that chaos & complexity hide. Unbeknownst to us, a secret lies under our skin, a reason to palpitate, to resolve what prior to profit could become a painstaking future. Revolving around a truth so intense… Nothing but death can solve the inexorable projection of our thoughts on a lake so keen to innerly sense the kindest moonlit skin. I’m not the night, but dawned into my mitochondrial being is the raw CARE we have for each other. I don’t, in death, want my faith drawn as truth. I want creativity to find me in itself, so deeply in love with itself that I willingly expand myself into myself until I dare to give another the moderate space I bundled, unaware I so meant to share. I want creativity to love me so I can realize what life is, what matters, what reality is, what we are, what being is as I lose my sense of ownership to an undying companionship enlightening my consciousness into a caring I forever sought in patterns of evergreen joy.
This poem was inspired by the Mystical Landscapes Exhibition at the Art Gallery of Ontario. If you can’t be there, don’t miss hearing the audio tour: http://www.ago.net/mystical-landscapes-audio