This is not a
Sliver of time..
But the Field
Containing all time
(And space..by the way)
You and I
Are this Field
This Now
Which is waiting
For our Recognition..
For when Recognized
All absences and departs
Paint our Now with
Memories now made of
Now...

Clarity seems
to be missing in the
Clutter of inner traffic..
The clutter loudly insists
When we strive to
Escape or remove..

Somehow
the need arises to
Recognize Clarity as foremost
Lurking behind all clutter
And allowing the clutter to
Dance its short dance on
Clarity's bright stage...

Seems
to be missing
In the clutter
of so much traffic..
And loudly repeats
When we strive to
Escape or remove..

Somehow
the need arises to
Recognize Clarity
As foremost..
Lurking behind all clutter
And allowing the clutter
To dance its short dance
On Clarity's bright stage...

The 1619 Project
Changes history's focus
Beginning 400 years ago
When a few slaves arrived..
Some are fearful
Of a subversion of
Our national narrative..
Yet is this a crack
Which may open
A floodgate
Showing  immense
Variations of stories
Originating in our
Common Source and
Growing our Freedom...?

Re-cognizing
Splitting for clarity
The meaning springs
Knowing and perceiving
Again and anew..
And a recognizing
(that word again)
That recognizing could
Have occurred long ago..
This is how we
After life's sinkings
Finally Recognize
Our Self
Again and anew...

Is
The great liberation
The Recognition of the
Overlooked admission
I don't know..
It is the answer
A darkened glass
Stained with confusion
Being wiped clean
Our image uncovered...

This word of the day
An experience of time
The briefest sort..
I wonder
If this old word
Contained a hint
Of time's illusion
When seen and heard
Standing alone
With hands and bells
On a village tower...