Knowing Being

It isn’t that you don’t think big;
You hardly think at all.
Why make out like a broken twig?
A tree stands straight and tall.

The branches, trunk and sunken roots,
The buds and blossoms, too,
And all the many leaves and fruits
Are made of what makes you.

And yet the workings of your mind
Reveal a major flaw:
You’re looking up your own behind
In search of sacred awe.

When what you are is consciousness,
Why see yourself as something less?

Photo by Jeremy Bishop on Unsplash

Leave a Comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *