We count, calculate, compare
If greater, thanks aloud in joy
If lesser, work, fight, beg

A life measured in numbers
Negative, minute, millions
But life begins at infinity

Not a number not a count
Of mind more real than numbers
Ungraspable, priceless, gifted

The work and joy is to know
The fight is to diminish to empty
For the less I am the more I am

Picking one from many fools who ran for a small price
Tempted with morsels, contemptible as the beasts
Gullibly proud of unshakeable beliefs pleasing the ears
Snared they shall to slave that my free will shall be

When you know it's not you
Then you’ve known another

But is it friend or foe
For you or against you

Your saviour or jailer
Your master or helper

It may oppose but it's not enemy
It rather flatters for pride leads to fall

Perhaps it's neither for you nor your foes
But for itself as it befits its own

If asked it will say it is what it is
And what another may say I don't know

If I speak truth without knowing until later when affirmed, then I know it was another.

If I speak truth, yet woven in it are greater and deeper truths, constructed without intent nor awareness, then I know it was another.

If my simplicity conceals a manifold complexity with greater simplicity, ie beauty, then I know it was another.

If what I wrote or said long ago is ever new, surprising and constantly inspiring with each re-reading or re-hearing, as if they are living and ever growing, then I know it was another.

If every thought is not only consistent with all that's revealed but reveals yet more, especially that most subtle but utterly profound, that I cannot help but believe that I've transcended into a realm beyond all earth, then I know it was another.

If it is what it is, is so familiar, like one knew from long ago, and never apart, inseparable as soul and spirit, heart and mind, that it's mere shadow is sufficient for proof, then I know it was another.

For millennia awaited when appeared crucified
For millennia warned when appeared worshipped
The voice of history, prophetic truths, if perceived
Past and Future, symmetrical, and mutually imaged
A thing and an anti-thing, similar but opposed
Not repeatable science nor philosophical dialecticism
But a reversal of time, a humanly difficult reality
As we look only ahead as we walk the same way
Forward and backward, each way different to the eyes

We count time but don't know what we count
We feel time's flow in the sun, moon, and stars
And see it passed in our flesh and offspring
But without knowledge nor awareness if it is
Forward, backwards, circular, or not at all
Or if a second prior or after, is, shorter, or longer
But only the everlasting, now, past, future, illusionary
And time, the same as times, and so too half a time

Unless you see your chains you're not free
Unless you see your flesh you're not spirit
And unless spirit and soul mutually see
You cannot know there's Another in your midst

Unless you are silent and still
You cannot feel the gentle wind
Nor hear its whispering song
Nor discern it's voice in the harmony, or dissonance