Root Cap

buried

I can think of life
thanks to things like the weather of light—this erosion of emptiness in effort
to raise the dead from that in which I thank those who think of death instead

a seed

The Wind

scattered seed will wake the dead
unmarked & fast asleep—buried everywhere
the living look

for what is death but this—
a mark we make upon the dark
like a new born root that arouses
the spot

a tree in Bethany

recapitulation

the away that is longed for by those that carry what the future holds is the void they will die for because the wind is the “why” when we proclaim the need to bury is why the wild is full of what the future carries

otherwise nothing is ravished & all is breathless—there is no seed absent the awayness & without wind we render nothing!

the gods

the horizon

at the end it begins & this it an emptying that ends in a storm that rains with the sea; an it as the end of a sea that rivers a valley; an ending like the coming of fall when a river again by sea will it begin; these streams the end of a snow when seas had perished high in the mountains.

if by “over there” it begins, is it out of an end like a dark that would shine but for the lack of sunlight? an emptiness beginning like decay but for the lack of the fallen? to begin is to never be but this & to end is the same because in it by either goes the other away.

blue sky

Rainfall

The sun decays the sea, the sea grows the soil & the soil advances the seed.    
The seed grows a flower & the flower makes love to a fly & the fly makes pregnant the feces. The feces increase the bacteria that advances the dead who grow the holes that make pregnant the emptiness. The emptiness decays the everlasting that increases the dark that advances the star that grows a seed
that flowers the sea.

Autumn's Easter-Egg

Death that  “lives” in excrement a fly will find, comes to Life in the ruin of eggs
a wasp will leave behind.

Quercus lobata

In an Autumn Field

The Spring of Autumn

The persistence of thought
is appetite.
The embryo of thought is emptiness.
The sex of thought is memory.
The yielding of thought is mortality.

The radicle that waits within is a "thought" in the roots that wait to come---they thrive in a place the penetration of light never pleasures, for such a place pleasures thoughtful plants with its own enlightenment.

Solum

Beneath An Autumn Rock

Memory never tissues a root, the dark never tissues light, the dead, never life, yet there is no root, no light, no life until there is emptiness, the issue of dark & the perpetuation of thought.
It is by evolving thought that both root & star flourish in dark, for look how the endeavoring radicle elaborates memory of light. 

A Calcareous Rock (full of fossils)