Seeking Fresh Searching True



Seeking, ever seeking, who is this searcher I sometimes call me?
Is this searcher more aptly called myself?
Or perhaps the searcher would prefer self?
What if the searcher should see its way to Self?
Other times, this searcher definitely seems like I;
And, still, at moments most quiet, the searcher is all of the above at once
And, none of the above,
But, rather, much like the seeker, ever seeker,
Whose goal is not rest,
Whose goal is no goal,
Yet, whose aims continually move further inward
Further outward to interiority and exteriority
Of unknowabilities and unthinkabilities…
Thus, the searcher and the seeker wed
Realize there is no ultimate finding of any of the faces above,
Only momentary moments of recognition,
Of which each moment thereafter proves unrecognizable
The face that once presented.
And what of perennial questions of suppositions of oppositions?
What of any of these polar pairings do we attribute to whatever of our faces—
Ourselves thus appearing momentarily to be begrudgingly labeled such—
In whicheven moments, we make of ourselves as completely taken over by it,
Should we allow such to occur we are possessed,
And in the possession of archetypal forces and energies
We are no longer just that face that presented, we are myriads of faces
To be better represented as ourselves as a rainbow of faces in one
Ever shifting, ever moving, ever giving landscapes beauteous colors
Landscapes of humanity and of places, and so on…
What then of these pairings comprises or nourishes our roots—
We now being akin to kin of world trees, to brethren and sastren strong
Trees standing tall and wide with deep and long roots—
Is what we perceive, is what we rememory, is what we think,
Is what we act, is what we see, is what we speak, is what we hear, is what we feel,
Is what we imagine, is what we fantasize, is what we intuit, is what we create,
So that what we do makes of us what we are…
Questioning what forms our roots nourishes and strengthens our trees,
But obsessing on one or another, especially the inherently toxic samples,
And wondering if these be within the fibrousness of the roots
Requires energy from the tree be redirected in order to heal the psychic wounds
Such wondering entails: to stem the sap from oozing outward into the ground.
Rarely does anything or anyone truly trick all of us
Except for if we dive into faith without its just due
So, let us look deeply, feel fully, sense surely, and intuit openly
And in so doing worry not over trickery, masks, guile-filled breezes and false windows…
Thereby, we can instead see over that hill and into that vale
The sunsets and sunrises, the forests slowly marching
The mountains breathing and growing to slowly sink again
The very land exhaling and inhaling to meet and depart is not heresy

--by Scott Michael Potter

About this poem

The lack, the perennial absence, that which is unknown and unknowable, that which we call by any name other than found and utterly known, this is the great quest, to find IT...to unify, to become one, to realize the ineffable.

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Written on February 18, 2022

Submitted by ScottMPotter on April 11, 2022

Modified on March 05, 2023

2:33 min read
0

Quick analysis:

Scheme ABBBXCDEFXXFCXDGXXXHXXFIHGXXJXJXXXXIXJXXXXAXXXXA E
Closest metre Iambic octameter
Characters 2,823
Words 510
Stanzas 2
Stanza Lengths 48, 1

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