This weekend has been spent visiting a town I left almost ten years ago. I lived here almost 20 years. Has been wonderful catching with some old friends, old haunts and introducing my partner to some favorite restaurants.
It got me thinking about this piece.
In chaos there is meaning.
The meaning is there is no meaning.
Chaos
The weirding of the word
Is a lie to its content.
A portion of the great Ain Soph.
The mind grapples what it cannot conceive.
In the no-thingness of chaos
Is contained the birth of all.
Order,
Born of chaos,
Dies
Kicking and screaming
As chaos
Welcomes
It home.
All cycles,
All possible,
Extremes,
I climb the tree to live.
Looking out
Over the great mass of non-being
I see
In the distance
Another tree.
Looking out from the tree
Is me…
When My Worlds Collide 