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Pan Looks Back
All is nature, as all is the grass restoring once cut
The great wind that comes inward from the north is
The hand of death reminding and cradling the all.
The subconscious of plants is already formulated within,
The human glimpses of the divine pattern which
Has been imprinted at birth, beyond that which
We were born into from the matter that surrounds us.
The images the cerebellum conjures is the true God
He, who wishes to altar the apparent, wishes to change
All that has already been made concrete and is given
The secret. There are those who ingest and discover
And those who the pattern is instilled naturally.
You look at the sun and you promise yourself,
I will only follow my intuition as it presents itself
As I am therefore a vessel of the cosmic conscious.
In a previous life, the stars saw of these configurations,
Now they shine down their images as each inmprinted
In the circuitry of the cerebellum's function.
The Abyss, what of it? These black holes, one can never,
Succumb to it, as all are reborn to it.
