shady side of the moon

The world is an activity book
& from the lines between dots are
lives made but . . .

in stillness & silence
i make myself small
To fit into the floating point of the letter.
as refuge claim i that smallness & oneness.
A line has length, can be cut, but
the dot just
is.

ink runs like seawater.
from the spilled pot where the child crying
for he does not understand
has overturned it.
blotting the page with ink & tears
that run like seawater,
but murky & black,
Because he cannot solve the puzzle.

calm
or if not calm be still & silent
or if not still then simply be.
Child the world is not a puzzle.
think not
feel not
be.

Am a drop of seawater
in the infinite ocean's stillness
& Am the ocean too,
Am seperate & still too
one
The child, forgetting to swim,
breaths seawater, & fishlike
forgetting to blink
sees.

Clear & bright
are the tears of joy &
Pure & dark are tears of sorrow &
all is seawater running together in the endless,
tranquil ocean.

Sorrow taints not remembered joy.
they mix & run in salty rivers
to the clear ocean & are one as
i am
in the sacred light of a word & name
"I am that I am"

The child returns
to his desk & his puzzle book
blotted & spotted
& sees the lines washed out
& is sad
but smiles, for tears are as seawater
& i begin to make new lines
connecting the dots where the ink splattered
& when by chance a shape -- a heart -- emerges
i laugh
without regret.