Liminality II

Where chaos and order intersect   sparks will likely happen:

thunder    lightning and rain   and a heavy wind
that stirs rivers   shakes buildings   fells trees;

or a silent voice   that sometimes   surprisingly wakens
from the edge of sleep.

You sit up and listen.

Call it thinking   call it streaming   call it God
nonetheless you listen   and sometimes arrive   at a poem
or a poem's beginning

that is   in itself chaotic   but still makes sense
even if spread out   disordered.   

You look and listen   in a silence   that condenses to words  
but is also vision:

displays of image float by   collect   commingle.

You observe creation  and in this manner   grow wise
in a  world   where you have   no control. 

It is chaos that orders beauty.

It's as if you sing    but it isn't you  that is singing   it's the creation
where sometimes   the singing is raucous   and sometimes bold   
not always the pleasantest sound

or the song turns cold   and wistful   and sings of loss
or is harsh   and strident with anger.

All you know   is the singing is life.   As it sings, is so.