See the moons reflection on the pond, in the bucket of water, in the droplet that has grown heavy at the leaf tip. The reflection does not get wet, nor is the surface of the water broken. The mind reflects on this reflection as the moon follows its nightly arc. The reflection changes, the process ends, and then begins anew.
.
As all mortal eyes
Capture only what’s fleeting,
So words do as well,
In ways inexplicable
Nothing remains (as it’s seen)
.
My days are swifter than a weaver’s shuttle. They pass like a shadow at evening. A vigorous western wind blows dead leaves east where they gather against walls, stairs, and prickly pear cactus. A brisk eastern wind blows dead leaves west where they gather against chain link fences, trees, and along the shoreline. Life’s panoply of arrival and decay.
.
only my dreams can
wander these arid deserts
where no thoughts exist
.
For we are only
of yesterday, and know naught,
because these days on
Earth are only a shadow,
an unyielding paradox
.
As all mortal eyes
capture only what’s fleeting,
so words do as well,
in ways inexplicable
nothing remains (as it’s seen)

richard lloyd cederberg
6/2020

    Between the Cracks - A Monumental Journey Series