Edge of eye sky

Everything is alive with the animating force of you.

If you have access to greatness – to godlike power – and you do, you would spend it well.

You would not dumb it down for the busy and the overwhelmed by trivia.

You would bring it up as children bring up the relevant questions of life.

It would come up as a fizzing gusher.

The earth baring its soul in demanding fashion.

It would poke out subtly, like the last star visible in the dawn sky.

The blinds would open; the filters cleansed of the discerning mind.

And as that star fades and morning glories slowly open, it’s possible but improbable that there’s an idea here for us evolving.

Something as simple as manic expansion as a distraction – a ruse to keep us from finding keys within.

A dazzling show to prevent any one from knowing too much.

But even that’s a man-made ruse.

Nature cares for no individual even though only the individual births all of nature continually.

Just as I birth the sunrise.

I conjure the skittish lizard.

I bring smoky thoughts to a fire that burned long ago.

I will see what I want in the sky, and it may see what it wants in me.

Because the sky starts at the lip of my eyelid.

And ends in a dream somewhere centuries beyond me.