The cabin was silent
like the world below sparse trees
striving for growth
something future
Day escaped from shadows
captured night like a fugitive from never
being anything more than illusion
ocean sloshed prime reality
Olding human being
looking about at chains of mortality
so everything changes the neighborhood
with noise of creative destruction
Flesh multiplying itself in forms
mathematically structured processes
flowing complex answers
without question
Ever disappears into possibility
objectivity may then regard circumstance
chords of being
silenting away.
Garrison Gibson: books and blog 