TO BE MORE THAN NATURAL

He walked in open times - big blue sky days. He sensed big moments, small standards, sectioned expectations - the world of rooms within buildings. There was a sigh, it was the wind...or ten thousand pairs of leather angel wings - the choir of broad wings of delusion. Focus shifted, worlds collided, memories shifted, lives collided. So many variations, so many wheels in perpetual motion - nothing is new and nothing is remembered. The cosmos is like a giant map with no names, no borders, no direction, no past. You walk because there is nothing else to do...but walk. He hummed the nine tones, he mumbled the eighteen incantations, he sang the one hundred and five hymns, and screamed aloud the ten thousand names. All this gives you succour and safety, all this is temporary and an illusion. Life is tranquil and moody, calm and short. We are here, and then we are not. He stood in the middle of the woods and whistled softly, for recognition and presence. But there was nothing and no one...big blue sky and the sigh of the wind...or perhaps it was ten thousand pairs of leather wings - the choir of broad wings.