Sylus Vernon

She licks the orange
Does dog have Buddha nature?
It seems to me so

Reality is making love to itself
The blade entering a victims heart
The tear stroking a hurt child's face
The moan escaping a dying soldiers breath
The terror of time beckoning with a curled finger and a lusty wink
It is, all of it, perfect

The sounds of the forest cry out, and the moon becomes a ghost. Somewhere beyond sight, a pebble falls into the lake’s mirror surface, and the passing flight of the owl is distorted and lost forever. Where did he go? It’s as if she was never here. There is only the moon drowning in the lake. And yet... and yet...

The ember which caught
Of its dead sisters
A seed thrown to cosmic wind

Yet even in glass
These eyes cannot view themselves
Pray tell, what am I?

Behind that which looks
This is where change itself dies
And sleeping gods wake

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