Here,
we trace the mind into a map,
geometrical alliances,
shapes and figures,
the artistic curves and dots,
circles everywhere,
connecting this and/or that:
an imagination is a whirlpool,
spinning into its point,
expanding into the universe.

Diagrams and statistics,
graphs and figures.
When the bear sees a mirror,
it believes it needs to kill.
When the man sees the girl,
he believes he needs to love.

Here is space and time,
and form and focus,
words conjured from ideas,
the looks of things,
their relation to other things,
puffed up by language arts,
and strange magicks.

Who said that our mind comes from these,
or that these separate from mind,
or that there is even any mind at all?

On the other side,
Your body knows
that your glass is empty,
or that he doesn’t love you,
while the costumed mind
sets up mirrors of mirrors.
only mind can ask: what is real?

The body knows what is real;
when the storm is ready to sleep,
and when cities are falling,
when your heart is untrue,
when Whitman sings electric,
that you are going to die,
and how.

Wisdom is the flower that blooms
from the dead and the seeds,
in the darkness concealing
all treasures of you;
and the soul as wind,
carries all things unawares,
into realms that mind misimagines,
and grows them there.

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