ckapoo's humming:
The mundane
Everyday conversation
Slips through my ears
Like grains of sand
Through an hourglass
Where the infinite reveals itself
Behind a curtain
Of rubble
Where whispers of the sacred
Intimate themselves through objects
Things, Senses, Sights, Sounds
The infinite knows its realization
Only through the finite
Only through the solidity of the thing
The concreteness of the everyday
The mundane
Being the curtain of access
To the sacred
As potentiality
Realized in Actuality
Bus stop
People standing listlessly
In clusters and sprays
Awaiting Deliverance To their destination
Will they be Delivered or damned?
I leave that to your imagination
Whatever the outcome
Depends On how
The journey Is executed.
Insanity
They call me insan
