I’ve been thinking about things never thought about
Not so much those undiscovered mysteries that stand in line
expecting some day to be thought of
But the little things, the silent majority of occurrences
that pass into and out of existence
as briefly and unsubstantially, and unnoticed
as the shadows of a ceiling fan pass across the dusty top of an armoire
I suppose like a tree that falls in the forest, but not so loud
and so obviously unnoticed
More like the leaf in a forest that flutters it’s life away,
obediently photosynthesizing in beautiful complexity
and offhandedly destroyed by the green teeth of a translucent worm
Or a galaxy a million times too far to ever be seen or detected
Turning in vacuum silence, faithful in it’s purposelessness
A slow drop of honey down the inner wall of a wild beehive
The sparrow’s dark nail on the inside toe of his left foot
The perfect harmony of two brown bottles in the wind
in the ditch of a New Mexico road
A rock at the dark bottom of the Baltic Sea
with the perfect profile of Jesus
So perfect it would be lined up for by a billion teary-eyed seekers
But as it is, eternally covered in gray fish mud
None of these things matter to our conscious, purpose-filled lives
But it should be noted that our consciousness is a thin film
on a massive ocean of selfless unnoticed things
And in that light, maybe the sheer imbalance of it
warrants the proposition of another.
An observer that notices the rainbow film
But also sees through it and meets the return glance and smile
of his unnoticed creation.
