THE HARVEST OF NOW

Opal ingot spur of inception, conception in decoupage of night twilight day and dusk,

drawn from commingling instants, spanning eternities,

deep in the deepest ionic swarm, hovering above,

the concealment of a Trillion dreams, 

progenitors of a revolution,

harvested deep in the panoply of temporal distinctions,

eternity in an instant,

infinity in the palm of your hand,

to borrow from Blake, 

No place is between the siphoning of nothingness and absence,

only the vacuous implementation of infinite bewilderment suffices there,

she sits in meditation, 

upon earthly delights,

and from heights no deeper than than illusion's stance,

she stoops down to the earth,

perceived separate from her,

our mother nature, our mother earth,

fixed deeply in the abyss of space,

where the ground of being and the heavens meet,

and there she contemplates existence,

our place amongst the stars,

we humans,

breathing in...

the harvest of now.