Matter Of Fact

Sunny day, sitting on a rock, waiting

for the bus…I know where it’s going,

my rut, my routine, not heavy, light

like my life that floats on the waves

of the senses.

Matter doesn’t matter. It’s the illusion 

of solidity, the ground of confusion.

The words I write don’t become matter.

If someone connects with the words it’s 

the same as seeing a flower, really seeing

it for the first time, only materializing in

the mind.

Everything human starts in the mind.

Monuments are only expressions of mind.

They are the play of matter in which the 

truth is revealed.

The truth is not material, but it’s the only

thing that matters, 

like the Lincoln Memorial.