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
Signature Lina Ru