What’s green and sawtoothed, with woody musk?
“Why, it’s the evergreen mammoth” the explorer said, “with his two ton tusks.”
What’s curved and scaled, with fiery sound?
“Why, it’s the darkened treble” the musician said, “of the clef that abounds.”
What’s stony and grey, with an elephant’s head?
“Why, it’s the deity of wisdom” the Brahman said, “atop a mouse, instead.”
What’s changing and swirling, with fearsome winds?
“Why, it’s the modified mind-stuff” the Yogini said, “fighting to get in.”
What’s full of coincidence, imagination and, dreams?
“Why, it’s the three only things” the artist said, “that thread the seams…
…of the creative spirit and connects us all
and into the soundless nothingness we all will fall.”
And the artist said with glazed over gaze, but canny contemplation,
“the canvas I paint today is my own sublimation
of the enemy ego that darkens my heart
and clouds the love that brightens the stark
and cold tundras of this armor I wear
that was built to protect the vulnerability I fear.”
And then the artist said, with a sigh and a step,
“I’m setting free this corroded metal for the self and the breath.
No more clinging
No more stinging
No more sea salty things
Just the light in the sky and the winds that it brings.
And I’ll say just one more thing and then I will go
Paint your pictures in the present, for (the past is gone and) tomorrow never knows.”