A good night’s sleep
as a few microbial induced
symptoms recede
forceful dreamings
having had solid closures
but none of those images
are coming back to me
thus in good health waking
to Solstice
I am with the Sun
standing
still
+
Beholding this moment
beckoning
the electrified news of Thursday
with all the atrocities and
horrors of the kosmos that I cannot bear
and beauties too beyond all reckoning
choruses of woodpeckers in the tall pines
along with the finches and other little birds I cannot name
+
Meditation-in-communication this is
my praxis in phases
of receptivity and transmitting
reaching near
and away
breathing
+
I feel the archaic factors in my life
infinite arms
of swirling galaxies
infantile
embodiments and signals continuously
arriving from the remotest edges
of knowable experience
I feel What-Is-Not-Yet becoming
the unknown and unknowable
signal-lessly immediately
+
Glancing at the backs of my hands
fingers flitting across the keyboard
I think I’m ready almost
to press the send button
and then to make breakfast thanks giving
and proceed with sculptural blendings
of the specific gravities and spectra
red-orange-yellow-green-blue-indigo-violet
the various modalities of timeliness
that I have to work with
through and through at all scales too
the ingredients of my death and the dyings
of all who are dearly departing
in the verses of these very instants
and for all living beings who have and ever will
come to live and must taste death
I pray without ceasing
+
And with all that endures of these
Beloved
Dawn ever-presently arises
meditation communication
praxis of today
Solstitium
John Dotson
June 2018
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