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Poem

Quantities of time feel nothing.
Calculating, summing and subtracting,
days and weeks,
months and years and decades
roll past our eyes and ears
our growing and shrinking stomachs
to leave their strong and weak-grooved rings,
yet I only feel and remember qualities of time as co-present,
co-arising
co-gravitating
or dissonant immune reactions
of fear about time's future qualities
anger about time's past conflicts
burning hot bright volcano hatreds
adrenaline flowing flashes
accessible as bliss
only completely invested, immersed,
within this timeless moment,
too seldom aware of Earth's intelligent co-present fertility
as grace dancing through our quantities of mortal metric times.

Qualities of time's regenerate evolutions
long to feel everything belonging once again together,
as if beyond a foggy lapse of mirrored identity
this was our golden era memory
feeding on matriarchal placentas
when all felt now-ly timeless
and right
and true as good
and warm-full beauty filled.

Perhaps here lies our measure of time's healthiest quality,
economic and political as ecologically environmental growth therapy,
surfing through this timeless now of polypathic potential consciousness
of feelings positive through negative
emerging from and for and through and in and on and over each now
submerging into past speciating
branching memories,
trees of old strong-rooted felt memory
weighed against and for our original embryonic nurturing standards
for stronger ecopolitical health
as less climatic pathology
through this eternally regenerating now.

Quality of Tao feels everyone potentially to-gathering.

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