The Rush

What is the extent
Of these groves half-sullen?

Vines wrapped up in
Messy mountains—stolen, accosted.

Ramble, Granted the Gravel and
Dirt don't Hurt like The City

And Hail Mary full of Grace
I watched as men fell down, men took their place.

Full of heart yet heavy,
Pumping chests and shooting lead.

Howling veins of fury,
Roots dug down among my kin.

Brothers all around me
But my bed of roses is just a bitter cup,

My day is started and yet my day is done;
What dire weather fosters in the hearts of us.

I have heard those shots, half-fired if not in anger
And I have heard their replies deafen us.

Neither God nor King or Country,
The modern war is as modern does.

I'll mention Eisenhower
And the military-industry, all for what?

I am merely a child
In a company half-strangers

While empires rise up
And decline as the sun.

What I will say right now
Is change your course.

What I will say again
Is

Resh

And if you want to understand that
Then you have to throw out everything

I mention.

Now I will just try to say
Something about the sun

Relative to your perception,
Said in myth a chariot pulling it

On and on round the heavens
Relative to all of our senses.

In this pen there is no deception, now then,
Do you think the sun can care a hair

About your perception?  No and with good reason,
It is there just existing and you're allowed

To think about it as anything.
Do you think the Truth cares a hair

What you believe in?  With the same proof
It is there just being

And you're allowed with the same reasoning
To believe in whatever the hell you have reason to believe in;

The sun doesn't move relative to us
We move relative to the sun.

The truth indeed gets covered up
But it screams beneath all varnish.

I cannot refrain, in truth, I love.
Tell me anything half-hearted, or hold

Up some deception there-of,
What shines bright, imposed against that backdrop

Like a diamond in the rough?
I am only moving, relative to what?

Distance, envelopes half-opened
Relative to what?

Priceless, sister, what elegance is effulgent?
I tell you everything is love.

I am the ear of a patient listener
For the sound of echoed guns.

Make your self a careful center, you are a taste-tester
Relative to what? Opening each and every morning

Everything is love, my dear, and everything there-of
And on and on forever and always,

All that will be, all that can be, and all that was.
Fuck, what can be said of it?  Any semblance

Seems to get in the way.  Shining innocence
I'm parting, dearly departed, give them all of my love

Again and again and again, half-open,
These shimmering plays are wrapping me up.