viable syntegration

Last updated 31st. July 2004


(i.m. Stafford Beer)

          And here, below the twilight arch

         quiet now lies the quarry

Abandoned shadows spinning,

silently echo cryptic intimations,

reverberating wall to wall

in this hushed hidden cell.

August wind freshly stirs

the sweet incense, charred and

dying daily, daily dying,

embers of an ashen altar sighing.

      Still spinning....spinning still

The hourglass suspends its

turning game, rotating space into

time-tied threads; meeting a deadline

just this side of forever and ever...again.

      Still spinning......spinning still

That untamed garden of the brain

tended by a tender heart of plenitude;

where dappled shades interplay

and butterflies gorgeously display.

(A circumspect owl gives a startled hoot

from the void; to-wit-to-woo to you too, old pal!)

The still point of the spinning wheel

embalms and calms emblems of the

desire to be without desire, to begin

journey's final game...again.

        And the transit of absence marks

        a tutelary presence here, below the twilight arch

        Spinning still.... spinning still...........spinning still... ... ...

©David Whittaker 2004