Friday 2 February 2018

We Dare Not Confront the Mystery that We Are

most of what we are is blind in the unseen dark
the abyss between the cell membranes flutters
with delicate breathing forces for which we have no names
we are a mystery to ourselves

most of what we are is what we are doing right now
but we do not know it nor can we, nor can we take charge of it
the wild systems of of our deeper nature
do not recognise what we call a self

most of what we are is a sleeping ocean

that dreams of the world of thoughts & things
which it cannot understand but to which it must try to respond
it cannot distinguish between the creative & the stupid

most of what we are is dissolved in water
stacked in sheets or coiled in the forest networks
of a secret country for which there are no maps
in which there is no sense of direction

most of what we are is patterned in conversations
carried by our uncontrollable blood
& because we are so afraid of this we will do anything
to avoid looking within

so let us fixate upon celebrities, politicians & members of our family
let us fall in love, become angry & then watch TV
let us pray to imaginary gods with our clasped hands & lowered gazes:

we dare not confront the mystery that we are