In memoriam G.N.


what is this landscape?

a void so vast
so constant
of a Constancy so deep and all-encompassing
that a sounder reads no depth
that the specific becomes generalized
and the general becomes pointless
like a compass without hands

my heart knows this landscape
has taken readings
and scanned maps
with ineffable instruments
to follow The Way

if I seem to ramble
I do
because this landscape bids me to
it gives no bearings and nor do I

simply: flow

I am the flow-er
the flower
minute among minutae
moving and stilling
in Constancy so vast
it leaves me breathless...
until it doesn't

c. 2009/2017 Roberta Compton Rainwater