AQUIFER

Unbeknownst.  

The dark abides.  

Cool of the night. 

The dew descends. No breeze stirs. 

Bated breath. Hooded lids. 

Sleep invites.

Waiting. 

A willingness to wait. 

Waiting. 

In the stillness - a knowing. 

Silence within the silence.  Within - 

the silence.

THE SEEKER

In this briefest of lives, I  have often been alone. I know that way of being. In my tall, seamless tower of isolation. In my small craft, out in the swell, buffeted by dark green waves. In solitary confinement, in my windowless cell. Walking aimless through the crowds in the throngs of the market place. In my time capsule, lost in the space between galaxies. All I know in that emptiness is to keep going. To move onward. To keep moving. I feel the flagstones with my toes in the cool waters beneath. I keep my sight on that one unwavering band of light. One step at a time. One step. One.

SPIRIT GUIDES

There are more things in Heaven and Earththan aredreamt of in your philosophy.” So says Hamlet to his  “Just the facts, ma’am”,  friend,Horatio. When I was a young boy,my father, the hard-core scientist,took me to the engineering building at McGill where Rutherford,  the new-age Alchemist, unpeeled  the shell of the Gold atom, breaking the machine & touching the ghost of matter. Sir Ernest’s main ethos, “Prove all things”, was carved into the granite wall - as if with a little more perseverance all things unknown will ultimately become known. The principle I come to know : the unknown is so vast we barely touch the tip of our toes into that dark water. A silence abides. An emptiness attends. A presence that can neither be proven nor explained. How to  understand this? I could tack words on. Better simply to accept. Accept without the necessity of proof

ATTENDANCE

Modern life insists we are solitary specimens - mere byproducts of random chance in the all-inclusive Goldilocks paradigm. We  serve our  time, sentenced here after 3.7 billion years of un-spiralling DNA.  Love lurks as a complex mechanism of pheromones, subliminal signals & triggered orifice immersions. Our brains are complex wetware computers that create a facsimile of self as a biological safety trick to avoid the ubiquitous sabre tooth tigers & spitting cobras. Ever the doubting Thomas, I went along with this sincere puffery for too many years. One night in my solitary confinement  I became aware of a presence I could not deny. Not dreamed, Not hallucinated. Not imagined. In attendance. At all times. A fissure of light cracked the shell of my arrogance & all my former truths became relative. Insufficient. As if a match head were struck on the rough surface of the wall of a jet black cave.