Something Decides To Be

The garden was the garden

When all was stone and still

The dead spinning rock

Is sitting in the sky

And something decides to be

In the cold dead

Cosmos of black

Something chooses to move

The grey black silent stone

Slowly grows blue and alit with color

Trudging forward stone to water to bone

And then it is

And then it moves

And then it thinks

Ever in motion

Always afire

Can anything which has chosen to move so

Ever be still again

In the effort to pull back

There are rewards

The gift of the stillness

Was the definitive self knowledge

Not obscured by motion

And to constant hum of knowing

Gene G. McLaughlin 2012

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