From birth we’re taught we’re each one person
with natures individuated.

What if instead we’re born entangled,
like photon states bound tight by quantum—

a kind of science of compassion
that says we’re never separate.



Each day the times get ever tighter,
the years remaining counting down.

I wonder if there’s room to finish
this work, this art, this life’s design.

Before I go I would prefer
to figure out what I’ve been buildin’!



I walk along the rained-on path.
The winds blow hard, gusts unabated.

The branches fall and strike my shins.
The wind directions change at random.

It’s nature’s way to give a bath…
I wish, although, that it had waited.



How can we know our prime direction…
this question’s simpler than it seems.

We presuppose an inner knowledge.
about the places we want to go to.

The signals’re there for our perception…
they offer us a robust means.



Our conscious wills are like encampments,
besieged by inner drives unconscious…
whose energies we can’t constrain.

Instead we’ll need accommodation
in order ‘union to commence…
and thus our powers coalesce.