early morning poem

      It has taken me a long time
      But I am no longer in dialogue
      With the world
      Now there is just this piece
      of paper and the true words
      I have written, linking me
      to the true words I have heard
      and spoken, linking me
      to the sights and sounds
      of the true world -
      birdsong and sunrise,
      sunset and evening song

There is a spectre haunting the universe. It is the spectre of birdsong and the Kototama sound practice.

The unified theory of everything is human consciousness and the human voice. This vanishing neutrino of a single human life is capable of grasping in an instant the life of the stars and the universe and eternity, and this happens at the minutest cellular, even sub-atomic level inside one's own skull. It is almost as if (almost!): who needs eternal life?

The birds sing this daily, and the poets know it too:

      To see a World in a Grain of Sand
      And a Heaven in a Wild Flower,
      Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
      And Eternity in an hour
             - W. Blake

And:

      I'd rather learn from one bird how to sing
      than teach 10,000 stars how not to dance
             - e.e. cummings

Even the physicists are in on it:

      "It was not possible to formulate the laws of quantum mechanics in a fully consistent
      way without reference to consciousness."
             - E. Wigner

And finally, it is interesting to me that in my old age the best summation of the human condition should come from Isaiah: All flesh is grass, but the Word endures forever.

I rest my case.