Winging On

Beauty is Your Name

part of: The Hidden Land

by Lora of Many Generations

by Shekina of the Third Generation of Wanderers

Beauty Is Your Name
(for Robert)

The smell of the sea outside after dark,
Two years ago this past September,
The waves’
lush caressment of the shore
off in an imagined distance pounded loud in my
remembered senses. I saw again
predusk white sand strewn with rocks, organic detritus,
all manner of slow decomposition
inturbulated, frothing up as
Dead salt sea foam to
Fertilize the land and the oceans of air
drenching me,
inside through my lungs,
outside against my skin. I imagine the genesis and onset
of Life most poignantly
within such moments…such was the setting
of the first moment
I ever saw you.
You were playing music,
And what music?
An intricate
Oscillating patterns of light
kind of music that set
hidden waves
Dancing through my own
inner ocean moved by
fifty years of continuous
Self-examination, or maybe just random
electrochemical processes doing their own thing…
(all that stuff we call thought). I can never decide which it is.
But I am not the first or last to make contemplation of
the endless continuity of moments we experience as humans
set within a Time range
that includes everything before our birth
and long after we are gone

the object of high passion, which is the same thing as
high art
in that skillful
encounterment with the information we seek
is the point,
the objects resulting from this contemplation
be they music, poetry, equations, nanocircuits or
things of
rare and inevitably brief
Moment, even if their Moment,
Improbably but plausibly
lasts for generations (and I say that because of histories we
Accept as common knowledge).

Kandinsky, Jeanne d’Arc, Galileo, Anne Frank …insert revered person of your choice,
What did they do at root
That made them stand out?

Ask the ancient Greeks. We’ve had the answer that long,
Maybe longer…think Lao Tzu in China. They had a similar message:
I refer here to the dictum,
“the unexamined life
Is not worth living,”

Must precede examination, from examination comes
Understanding, from understanding comes
Worthy actions…a most ancient bit
Of cultural engineering we think of as
In terms of outcomes
Of group behavior
Observed over time
That result in a balance between
The good of One and the good of All.


Wisdom has no age, no time,
No locality. This is how we know
It is Wise,“ just as we know a physical law is true
Because it always applies,
Like the mass/gravity or
Mass/energy equations
Stipulate what we can expect
As we venture out
Into the far reaches
Of Space.

Wisdom, Truth, are they simply
Different states of
Intelligent matter, Life,
Organizing itself into motion among the stasis
That is
Built from
The most microscopic bounds
Of organization
Of energy
Into mass and directionality that remain stable within
precisely defined conditions?

But I digress. To return to the first time I saw you,
You were at the extreme edge
Of your childhood….not a child, not a man, and wise
as only those not hounded
Heart and mind
By the body’s relentless demand to mate
Can be wise. You were a thing of rare beauty,
And yet
Not a thing at all, but intelligent matter organizing itself
Into what?

To the child I saw that night, I felt,
“Our Greek forbears’ injunction
To examine oneself
was wise…you have within you
The genesis of such wisdom.” Did that reach you
as we briefly passed, touched with
Eye and word? I almost said aloud
“Carry on,
beautiful one,” but time was too short. Our first moment passed so swiftly,
And I could not tarry then, and then, and then, but not now to say

All the things I have since
wanted to say. Will it be forever
This way
Or will we find time
To speak again