From Oak Grove To Field

Sometimes
I go from the oak grove
into the light.

The moonlight over the field
of tallgrass.

As a prayer.
To be filled.
Felt, fallen, bathed, and cast.
All in one moment.

Only something
non-human
could do that.

I’m not even sure
I can grasp it.
I just do. I try to live.

Literally, the human being.

While there is so much
simultaneously
happening alongside being,
too dimensional for beingness.

Like I said; a prayer.

Some kind of ionization.
Something electromagnetic.

Into minimal light.
Oak tree stark winter neuronal limbs
reaching.
Into a vast, vast ocean:
        the calculus of consciousness
        Physicists have yet to decipher.
Though my heart drives me to pray,
to give thanks to the eternal moment.

The thing recognizing itself.

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