Part One
There is rain that comes through the air
and lights it up
with the glowing of water.
It comes everywhere at some time,
Even in the deserts
Where once there were oceans
And in the oceans
where once
were green forests.
There is no time.
We know this now.
There is no separation of
molecules one from another
There is only some chance
that one of the smallest particles
is present
In any given notch
in the myriad of universes.
We know that when we look out
From a window
That it is not a window
outside us
Nor is the outside
not the inside.
We know this.
Feel it!
Practice the feel of it
With every breath you remember
Until the music of it
Vibrates everywhere
All at once.
Part Two
The eggman in the market
who observes his hens
Says they’re now running inside
And outside of their chicken house
With all the changing weather,
With the warm, then the cold
Then the wind, then the rain.
They do not like the rain
On their feathers.
The governments of the world,
he says, are changing
Like the chickens running
in and out
With all this variation
In the weather.
“Governments are driven by the weather
Like the hens”
He says,
In his accented French
of the Occitane.
