It
can be given that water flies in pattern
Just
as perfectly so as it does in snowflakes
Through
an upward spray of flying rain I saw it
The
falling shapes of drops in a pattern of arcs
Like
the tight-bound-shape of grains I’d seen –
As
so many spearheads of life, aligned together.
It
was strange, but even fanned water spoke of it –
The
wheat – that was the picture of completeness.
In
one drop that fell – in one grain that entered in
The
parts of wholeness were complete, too
Seed
of my turned-thoughts – entry points of light
Life,
because they were turned, up-flown
and fallen.
Even
blinding blasts of upward fanning winds
Spoke
of smallest parts – being as great as the whole;
And
the shooting spray drops – before they fell –
Beaded
diamond necklets – even these had their tongue
And
spoke to me of that which alone was taken up –
Gifted
chains of water wisdom – whispering to me.
*
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