The Growing of Man
Sages. Great Minds in soft bodies, looking inward to look out, pressed against the limits of understanding. Laying on the ground, seeing the units of a cube — how many golf-balls does it take to fill a school bus — now seeing more — calling the world the Middle Enclosure, fencing out Dark Shadow Wind-Spirits and the Great Bright Ancestor-Spirits — now calling the world something else — the Growing of Man — the Place of the Growing of Man — the place where we find ourselves // where we find ourselves changing —
We sit crosslegged, faces exposed to the storm of time, even as in single twinkle of hypothetical god’s eye, mountains are hills, now dust —
The Dawn Star, brightest of angels, heralds the sun. The being signals the becoming.
We extend beyond ourselves. Where does this extension come from? Is it merely a result of the sad pattern of living and dying that has given us eyes and ears and arms? Or is it a happy accident of that other pattern, now seized by the mind that knows its self, now directed towards some new end?
While life was blind, we danced to random drumbeats. Now, we go where we will.
The question is not how or why.