The Subatomic and the Infinite
A trout swims beneath.
Clouds moves upon the surface
And above the stream.
The perfect haikus, if such things exist,
Involve minutiae of life; not just
Those, though. Embracing clarity and mist
The lines take in the astral, far the dust
Of stars, as well as fireflies as they spark
Out lust in twilight. Even just one stone
Inside a creek includes the tiger shark
And also Buddhist monks taught not to groan.
All rise from closeness and a distant view
Combined as one epiphany. Pure dreams
Are not required. If muddy toes squelch through
A paddy, they are not divorced from streams
Of galaxies like Milky Ways beyond.
All things are one . . . all mystically spawned.
~ Phillip Whidden