The Poems: Acorn 1

Acorns are a good place to start

Look into the acorn;

find the order of the cosmos,

telos unrestrained

in a fall to earth, the molder,

the fusion of coded matter with

loamy humus. Look into the

center of the mortal soul lost

to its creaturely cipher. We

strive in wild myth-making, in

sanctioned form of astral-projection,

without the will to perish within our

bags of bones, to decay, the denial of

death is everywhere. As much as

we would call ourselves the

crown jewel, we are yet

flung into a vague corner of

our galaxy more as a seed

than a diamond. We are buried

deep in unbound darkness. O, how

great the gift of faith appearing on

the night the stars arranged so

random.

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Reckoning with creatureliness, ceasing to strive unsullied above the husking, the earthing, the bounty of new realms of consciousness, only after a letting go, a fall. I wrote this while fiddling with words to describe a naturalistic human faith. I think acorns are a good place to start.