FAKES

Echoes, reflections and perceptions

are quintessentially relative:

we forget we’re this tiny fractal part

of Something beyond human conception or mentation:

an Enormity, a No-thingness -

to be humbled and awed before Absolute Mystery:

to cherish, allow and revere

inexpressible arisings

in the heart and bones.

We talk about Love and Truth

as if - ah me! - we dreamt them up:

stuff to fix,

egos to satiate,

horrors to evade,

ignorance and fear, a game.

The Continuum - as if,

because we cannot detect it

(beyond sciences’ neat data)

becomes a myth - fake;

the invention of uncreative under/proto minds.

Delusion, rampant.

Chaos and conflict, inevitable.

Ripeness to Rotten, a speedy

conundrum.