We're All Made!

We’re All Made!

Love will run in fervent waves,
tossed back and forth on an ardent tide.
Sand will shift in a changing landscape,
Thus I then lust for a “right belief.”

But my search for the truth returns to more searches,
and soon I am lost in a sea of belief,
this made of that and that meant for this,
leaving me lost in the sands on the beach.

Lost in the sunlit explosion of dawn,
painting the beach with a stripe of horizon,
sunbursting flower upon the wide sky,
source of my joy or my sob or my pain.

The source of the pain, the belief in emotion,
like loving and skipping and fun and hate,
fearing and hoping and thoughts and things,
was and will be and even then

now.

He told the tree that none is one,
nothing and something, both made of a sum.
All’s assembled, and that’s the thing—
the thing that divides to more things again.

Even one is half and half,
and half can then be halved again,
and half can then be halved again,
and half can then be halved again . . . . .