The view from right where you are is ocean
at night, Pacific maybe. Vast presence
of space maybe, those cresting waves motion
of gas clouds pressing to form pure essence
of stars. Is what you see vital to view
where you are? Or just what you feel, maybe?
What you breathe matters, of course. And what you
touch, whether water or plasma. Baby,
oh baby, what you hear maybe’s music.
Maybe simply our ancient, eternal
hum vibrating each body’s cell, Rubik’s
cube of the soul. The view is never all,
never constant, yet always our desire,
like our eyes’ deep view of hearts catching fire.
Roger Armbrust
October 24, 2016
