The Knower is Lonely

if a man knows more than others, he becomes lonely. Jung  

the knower is lonely

in memories, dreams, and reflections

flitting about like a winged jewel.

prick... and thorns draw blood.

golden flower nectar soon oozes,

humming bird of paradise.

the knower is lonely,

dancing with the torch lily

that red hot poker of life.

from dawnbearer to evening star,

stirring light from phosphorous,

we are energy, fiat lux... swallow the light.

the wise man gazes off into space,

alone in his happiness

behind cotton and wool.

see how the pattern repeats

in the fornasetti wallpaper,

a vision writes the unwritten.

the unconscious history of mankind

lives unrecorded secretly in DNA.

ground gives way to a dark gloom ,

eyes grow accustomed to deep twilight.

picking up the stone, waters drain.

another youthful blonde corpse,

this one with a wounded heart,

float by, followed by a black scarab

and the blinding light of a red sun

rising from choking blood.

the knower is lonely,

in a room full of music and words,

an individual just being the thing itself.

glial cells emerge, the glue of protection

destroying pathogens and removing dead neurons.

wake to the bliss of nature,

following squirrels to every habitat,

slowing time... burying it in fresh travels,

watch the busy movements...

squirrels garden and even modify pine seeds,

watch them hang mushroom jerky from trees.

sacrifice the unconscious to the primal mother

for nobody can say where man ends.

the knower is lonely

with the hummingbirds of paradise.