Isn’t It Every Night

Let me leave the realm of nouns.
Let me run to the edge of the world
where everything, everything softens,
where definitions disappear.
But the edge becomes
the center of where I am,
so I’m arrived again at satori,
or the present tense of holy dementia.

More things merge every day
that had seemed to never touch.
More mysteries wink and call me on.
Oh species mine, why not go sane?
Our little Earth spins safely
in the vast womb of stars.
Isn’t it every night
that the stars are out?

When I live my days in this deep ease,
I affect the whole of the weave.
You think it isn’t much, it can’t
help the hungry, stop the wars?
But if blossoms sing (or songs bloom) in your footsteps,
the planet entire vibrates, you know this.
Use your Third Eye to look, to see.
Remember what once you knew.

©Susa Silvermarie 2023