The Organizing Tendency

The Ubiquitous Amorphic and Tenuous Organizing Tendency fell from the sieve beyond heaven, as a tiny drop heavy as all the stars and planets and their distant dark cousins. It fell and instantly spread in all directions, covering the earth, filling the micro cracks and wrapping it's tender arms around each grain of sand and dust. It left a sheen of starglow over the world and the colors vivified and elegance poured into the thirsty eyes of children and over the hungry, jaded souls of adults.
Goats danced with delight and rabbits romped. Salamanders smiled as the sun ignited a more brilliant white. The earth tickled itself and belly laughed. The moon, proud in marriage, danced pirouettes on the honeymoon evening.
The garish became garnish. The ending, the beginning. A deepness entered the shallow. Black and white envied each other.

Somehow Torn

Somehow torn-the world;
When a single tear
Ran down my cheek
On wet baby feet
Fresh from a wading pool
Across tickling grass and
Giggled over my chin
Then down my neck

The Green Flame

Somehow a seed is created; a spark. It is nurtured into a green flame that grows to a verdant blaze; burns in the rain and under an encouraging sun. A living thing, leaves as flames; throwing sparks into the wind; cast far and regenerating another green fire.
Thrown far, the whole world burns, and we, who live on plants, warmed by them and nurtured; lovers in dance; consumed and returned into the ground to become the kindling and substance for those flames.
The whole world burns.

The Soulution

There is something hard in the soul of this world. A vast emptiness impervious to light and discovery; dense and unmovable. We are all tied to this by subtle strings; tangled and tied, bound by birth and strangled in death.

Throughout this Universe a soft wind flows. Though soft, it is strong and rages in our bones. A fine wind that tickles the dense and makes it laugh; enters the mouth and curls throughout. Our bones laugh with it , as do the rocks. The whole world shivers.

It is this wind which is more ocean than air, that we must learn to swim; we must learn to breathe under water, untie the tangled and allow the Free to soften our resolve. We must learn to be still in order to move. We must find those tiny cracks, to penetrate the dense; carried into the core, a willing solvent; tender and untiring; eroding from within and smoothing the sharp edges.