Intentions Or That Is Good

ON WILDMOOR HEATH Each blade of grass each leaf each tree That I in their profusion see That clothe the Heath and so adorn With multitude enchanting form Conveys a force dynamic drive To hold, continue, so survive The pattern blue-print may be drawn On jot of double helix, born Repeated, seen in unchanged way In fossil image to this day The question still to predicate ‘What looks at print to replicate?’ What looks, and sees what to create Turn matter to its own dictate Form molecules to living cast And with intention unsurpassed Make worlds as with conceit it would Perceive and think: ‘now that is good!’ LIFE And so: this thing that we call life Could we dissect it with a knife? Piece of organic chemistry? That forms a fish, a bird, a tree And urges them: ‘Hang on and strive!’ To persevere and stay alive I never yet saw rock or stone Get up and change itself alone Nor make a self intended plea To challenge growth of entropy Yet smallest simple monocell Can replicate and grow like hell! But life sees what to duplicate Turn matter to its own dictate Form molecules to living cast And with Intention unsurpassed Make worlds by choice and then it would See them and think: ‘now that is good!’ SOURCE What of this strange elusive source I reference in this discourse I’ll not assert detailed depiction (Others may with deep conviction) Yet aver it cannot be Cause and effect concurrently Might be no concrete ‘thing’ at all No object: to be held in thrall But entity of cause and voice That is not tied except by choice Esprit of life that moulds this Moor That can withdraw and may restore Make worlds with self belief it would Perceive and think: ‘Now that is good!’