A Poem on Grass and Trees

The sun begins
the greenness of grass,
the blooming of light
upon the table, the particle-

Down the hill, the trees
are imbued a will,
and they grant your nerves
their language.

You’re spun, elevated,
but they are placed there,
their powers are placed there.

Everything is rendered
by the sun’s will. The mind is
the sun, piercing apart
the formless world.
And its will forces
the dense color of leaves,
the clouds echoing red,
and the greenness of grass
from your void’s gaze.

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