AMONG MY TEACHERS
Amidst the equally earnest elements of Nature,
my ledger book now is staggered by form.
Words hang in the air where nightingales
flutter and periwinkles climb. I know no
matter but mine and thine. Yet is it all
(with new eyes) so circumscribed?
No, no, I say - there is more to what
exists than mine and thine alone and the
material is an insufficient vice with which
to translate. For Life itself is not this matter
(at all) and let's just leave it at that. I write
philosophy now, Andros - a new word in
a new world wherein I have new eyes
and my teachers mere lies.
Amidst the equally earnest elements of Nature,
my ledger book now is staggered by form.
Words hang in the air where nightingales
flutter and periwinkles climb. I know no
matter but mine and thine. Yet is it all
(with new eyes) so circumscribed?
No, no, I say - there is more to what
exists than mine and thine alone and the
material is an insufficient vice with which
to translate. For Life itself is not this matter
(at all) and let's just leave it at that. I write
philosophy now, Andros - a new word in
a new world wherein I have new eyes
and my teachers mere lies.
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