THE CAIRN

THE CAIRN

The cairn in Spring, watches the air of the Universe
passing back and forth, like a pendulum, waving.
Good-day, good-night, good-day, good-night.
Swimming galaxies, delight in my sight,
how do they change under my observation?
I see them follow me, breathing in and out,
I see one prey on me, my energy product
its delicious(?) meal?

I go springing from it like the deer, under no duress,
happy to have my aura utilized, I am dancing.
My sturdy form makes way for light.
More light: more distribution of might.
Countless forms adorn what I call “my happy home”.
This creature revels in the observable clout,
of what can be called an organic climate-
controlled way to heal.

Season passes, the cairn sees the World in Summer,
sees the beauty of the southern hemisphere’s Winter.
Latitude, longitude,
more fact than intuition.
Manifestation of the desire to know things.
In-out, in-out, the tiratina twirls
outer space seems to dictate my every move
toward you, dear.

I laugh with the changing of the weather,
every milestone points to life lived, now, better.
Magical attitude,
from the fact of the tradition.
My mind lets me know when opportunity rings,
the bell of knowledge chiming, “home”.
Present for you, I seek to find my true love(s).
Calling ever, “here.”

In Autumn the cairn seeks itself as a Spring light-pool.
Ever after the lightning rod, even in this cold.
The cairn is magical.
Sensing progress of electricity,
the cairn knows peace and seeks to determine
how life will carry on a higher goal?
A goal of greater freedom for peace.
A goal of good.

I seek to know the answers of all that surrounds me.
Even when I know, I know I do not, of it all, hold.
Mine is a project of hope,
in my mind’s complicity,
for that which I desire to obtain as mine.
Perhaps I’ll find, I’ve known all along,
the whole world that I want to call my own,
in measure, is mine.

Winter sees the cairn, again, for a long time they have all
been friends, the sky above and earth below, delight.
The sight of mechanistic
familiars, to themselves, seals the fate
for everlasting commitment to good and peace.
Though the Sun is low, belief in glowing light does grow.
The seasons change, things rearrange, what remains
is the matter, dear.

Cold pressed in the snow and ice, I still seek myself.
Organizing the space is of concern, while I learn life.
Shall I be mystic?
Quietly disseminating me?
Or not at all, too quick to save my breath and speech,
negotiating my cares, while all else in life onward flows?
Hope in my being surrounds me in the domain
of the matter, dear.

The wheel has turned, and the cairn sees the World,
it is in its glory, it is in its beauty.
Divine kinetic movement.
Singing light morphs, singing mass
accomplishes organization with
rainbow hued technology and
civilization takes shape in our minds.
I search for you.
I search for self.