Does an acorn dream of becoming oak?
And does the sprawling oak remember the acorn?
Between cackles of the youth
And groans of the old
What fractures?
What holds firm?
If time were to speed up
The acorn would blink into oak
And the oak into acorn
Cackles and groans would
mean the same
The day and the night
This and that
All blinking into each other
The whole reality
the dreaming and the remembering
collapsed into
a single blinking point
What place would becoming have
in a world that is everything
in every given moment?
And now
If time were to slow down
and all movement were invisible
The acorn would remain an acorn
The oak an oak
The cackles would echo endlessly
As would groans
The day forever bright
And the night forever dark
What place would becoming have in a world
where memory and dreams are
but idle myths
Where every moment stretches to infinity?
Becoming is
when time is
perceivable
When the perceiver
perceives the space
between a sunset and a sunrise
A space
just right enough
to hold the memory of the daybreak on one end
and the dream of the nightfall on the other
And who is this perceiver?
The roving eye
that measures the distance
between memories and dreams?
The quiet pulse
that counts the moments
between dusk and dawn?
Or is it
the enchanted void
that knows not itself?
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