One

All I know

is all I know —

just quasi-growth

within rigid parameters.

But an unseen show

in constant flow,

underlying and subtle,

expands the diameter

of my narrow, choking focus.

Prodding, poking, "Invoke us!"

nag the words upon the script.

And so, I peel back the physical layers

of the Earth and delve into the crypt

where the embalmed and all-seeing

soul of the world watches over the encrypted

code.

Shifted nodes on the web

bounce back into place, flow and ebb,

as noise dissolves into noise,

as blur fades into blur,

prime subject is presented

front and center.

Gaia went and spent her

indomitable will —

an infinitesimal fraction of it,

at least —

to teach me

that I must always be learning.

What grace, that old, capricious witch,

lifted her hand just to flip the switch

on my dummy thick brain.

Reactivated,

I swear, this reminder's not in vain.

In a blink,

returned to the surface,

I feel the pins-and-needles

sense of purpose,

that prickly chill of the greater good.

It's out there somewhere,

in the cloisters of the wood,

sharing water with the trees.

And here, too,

in concrete havens,

which harbor heroes and cravens,

and every intermediate shade —

we borrower beings, whose dues are paid

in some way or another.

I see I,

you see you.

In every eye,

the desire to eschew

the masochism of individuality.

to seal the schisms with melted gold,

restoring misguided plurality

to the vigilant and compassionate

one

whose scars, in time, will fade.