“The Flowers in the Vase”
I am given a choice,
Call it Free Will perhaps,
But will I give my existence to Thanksgivings?
Or perhaps dwelling in the dwellings of naught?
And so there is a flower,
And maybe two or a bundle,
And all such beautiful flowers you take with you.
But we are all such flowers,
And such flowers need drink.
Or wither, yes, wither.
Until withered and gone.
But should the darkness surround,
Yes, Shine on.
For even though the Light so dim,
A Light surround all the same.
Within the Light’s guidance,
Find your Vase.
The Holy Waters of Thanksgiving,
And Thrive.
For what is not, is not.
And for what Is, Is.
The open path is wide,
And forever dark.
Dark because it is full of things naught.
And it is here we dwell in delusion and die.
And the narrow,
Light and Luminescent,
Light because it is True.
But oh how Vibrant we Thrive.
And so,
I am given a choice,
Call it Free Will perhaps,
Should I give Thanks for the day given?
In everything it Is?
Or dwell in the naughts?
And wither away.
Away and away.
I am given this choice,
As placing a Flower in a Vase.
__________________
Imagine an eye unruled by man-made laws of perspective, an eye unprejudiced by compositional logic, an eye which does not respond to the name of everything but which must know each object encountered in life through an adventure of perception. How many colors are there in a field of grass to the crawling baby unaware of 'Green'?
-Stan Brakhage
Imagine an eye unruled by man-made laws of perspective, an eye unprejudiced by compositional logic, an eye which does not respond to the name of everything but which must know each object encountered in life through an adventure of perception. How many colors are there in a field of grass to the crawling baby unaware of 'Green'?
-Stan Brakhage
Last edited by Dog Star Man; 04-12-21 at 04:41 AM.