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       # 2023-05-09 - Sojourner by Ben Collver
       
       The sun is setting at the sea shore.
       Tonight the breeze is soft and peaceful.
       The sand is still warm from the summer day.
       The waves continue their eternal way.
       As i sit here dreaming on the shore,
       The same sunlight reaching to me here,
       Radiates itself out everywhere.
       Where else could i find this lovely light?
       
       Sparkling in a bit of broken glass.
       Someone set it on a mossy stone.
       In a mountain stream it's all alone.
       Looking up from here what do i see?
       I see a pair of rugged old yew trees,
       A carpet of moss everywhere,
       A working queendom of ants belong here,
       As i bask in the late summer warmth.
       And i wonder where this portal goes?
       
       Now i'm hidden beneath the vine maples,
       Observed now by only one living being:
       It's a big Pacific salamander,
       Frondy-gilled, it has a steady stare,
       In the pure headwaters flowing on.
       If i climb from here what will i find?
       
       A small glacial canyon filled with trees.
       Massive cedars speak of aeons past.
       Some have fallen on top of each other.
       Some are columns tall, dark, and somber.
       Here i find the prints and scat of bears.
       How i'd love to dally and explore.
       But i'm driven upward from this floor,
       Climbing up a stony mountain spire.
       At the top's a dizzy view of earth.
       I don't stop my heart's climbing worth,
       And soon i'm flying high among the air.
       
       Looking down i see a mountain range,
       Receeding; i find it passing strange.
       The sky darkens and stars begin to shine.
       I gaze upon this lovely planet mine.
       A blue gem bedecked in space and time,
       Moon in orbit, a white satellite,
       Growing smaller until out of sight.
       A pale blue dot and then nothing more.
       I see Sol shining for unseen shore.
       
       I lost the sun in a whole sea of stars.
       So grandiose, so humbling is this sea.
       Common heritage of all humankind.
       As without so in this bodymind.
       Watching the silent music of the stars,
       What patterns will i see along these bars?
       
       Slowly one star seems to grow in size,
       Its colored beauty approaching my eyes,
       Until i touch its surface with my foot.
       The star itself becomes my very foot.
       And likewise another star draws near,
       Merging with my body, oh so clear.
       This process moving on until i'm there.
       There and here, nowhere and everywhere.
       Disembodied i keep going on,
       My breath has become a waveform,
       It rises, peaks, and falls into a dip.
       The whole gamut is here and am i it?
       
       I consider my solidity:
       My assumption to a right to be,
       Cold and hard and worth its weight in gold,
       A rock, a foundation, a stronghold.
       Is it me, is it me, oh is it me?
       
       I consider my liquidity:
       My pure, creative life's ability,
       Bright and white, delightful how it flows,
       Original so who knows where it goes?
       Is it me, is is me, oh is it me?
       
       I consider my luminous side:
       My red-hot, burning flame inside,
       A motivating, purifying fire,
       Feed it anything and it grows higher.
       Is it me, is it me, oh is it me?
       
       I consider my arialness:
       Ever-moving, smokey, mirrored place,
       And encoded record of creation,
       It registers my response to the One.
       Is it me, is it me, oh is it me?
       
       I consider the ethereal:
       Expressing the whole rainbow of my soul,
       Scintillating wonder in the din,
       As profound as the silence held within.
       Is it me, is it me, oh is it me?
       
       I consider my conscious mind:
       The void that holds all not of the void,
       A substrate that a waveform is made from,
       A reverie and source of all wisdom.
       Is it me, is it me, oh is it me?
       
       As easy as when my part in life began.
       As easy as the final sleep at hand.
       So i walk this dance of joy and pain.
       Willing, i bless it and bless again.
       Is it me, is it me, oh is it me?
       
       tags: bencollver,outdoor,poem
       
       # Tags
       
 (DIR) bencollver
 (DIR) outdoor
 (DIR) poem