There Is No Journey

Spy an ant
at work tirelessly or a spider
thread and weave through
needle of rain and sun:
how little the footprint it leaves
once a job is done.

Can you see
a web is not a linear thought;
the only journey is one of survival,
it goes round and round
of a seasonal cycle; the only journey
is the one to the ground.

Look up to how a roof
with no limit but the eye
has taken a communion
with this hearth;
it's a marriage of rebirth
and a licence to fly
straight into the earth.

Fold and lay down your arms;
there is no journey in a dream,
but the one that comes back around
to a womb that swallows you
with a scream.

Feel your bones sink down
in this final stage of truth;
be not afraid of death,
but become one;
accept you will be nameless
for the sun was here
before we called it the Sun --

and it will be here
when you are no longer made:
know you are a picture
that will fade.

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