Nature Versus the Nurturing of Steel

Lo, each day is to revive and return to the same clothes, retrenching within the static of perpetual distraction, profound duty

The voices and words of others and self all clatter about the mind, concealing the presented present beneath layers of discursive ideations and ceaseless plans:

Contingencies, fears, and the bitter-cold weapons of war that combat them — all of steel

And then, time and again, the sigh of nature

Lo, the resolution of that wait to wither away this wallowing weight with the gentle tides of breeze and the subtle sinews of sundering trees

The path to ply becomes apart from, not a part of, the mind

And that beyond? Endless recesses of verdant gardens of most wild and divinely willed complexion

Artifices of human hand are alien therein — only somewhere out past walls of wood dwell planes of steel

The harrowing need for control is but a dripped drop into the pools of such magnanimous enchantment

Wherein there is a world left to enjoy when constructs concealing folly fall asunder to virulent towers transformed by higher hands

When the fog of my own plans and ploys is cleared by the lightening of heart and mind, I see every moment as but a chance to encounter this beauty; for, what a gift it is to be part of Creation and subordinated to its collective end

The sweetest of releases is the departure from cold, sterile steel