The Process Pre-mental 1993

                   The Process Pre-mental
Yesterday’s triumph was only activity,

Yesterday’s failure only black-tivity.

Pay no attention to either. They’re empty.

Ladder-like, bladder-like,

Empty, just empty.

Yang-ish and Yin-ish,

There’s never a finish,

One holding the other;

Contiguous brothers,

Like dust on a mirror,

Smoke from a fire.

You’ll pardon my Gita, but each one conspires

To fill out the day.

They’re really just clay,

And never do stay.

What is it I wanted to say?

Oh yes, playing –

And that is the point:

In sorrow or harrowed, encapsuled entire

In this wired spire

Is: each never stays,

But changes and alternates.

Always the nebulae forming from dusts

And the gases of nebulae crusts;

Total explosions that send out the seeds

Of equal potential to fill out the needs

Of new forming clusters

Grasped in their grandeur.

Its essence elusive, which rules out a seeking,

The peeking behind each intuitive find.

Speechless with awe,

Ecstasy permeates pencil and paw.

They grind to a halt,

This entire procedure salt for the day.


©The Process Pre-mental 93.2.4

Definitely Didactic; Nature In & Of Reality;

Arlene Corwin



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