This poem was inspired by the work of Bruce Lipton, Ph.D., whose work in cell biology is not only evolutionary, but transformational.
Fired up light streams through to my fingertips.
The cells move from Love's outstretched hand.
Many broadcasts, streams of information all descending.
Not leaving out song, ordinary actions, or mind movement.
I am is revealed, and me, puttering about, but not consulted.
Concede yourself to be merely an informed probability.
Slender energies downloaded and woven into notice.
Unstoppable awareness. Awe inspiring.
Nothing comes from anything called you.
Be glad. That news is your undoing and your reclamation.
Though the cosmos on the march, it is not self directed.
You are among the everything that is adored in this way.
Life and death reincarnated, like waves tumbling.
The streaming welcomed by organic receivers.
Yet, by this recognition volition seems to fade.
Take some quiet joy in that composition.
The sages, psychics, and mystics were right.
The heavens can return as mystery.
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