Of My Father and The Fabric-of-Existence

Our paint bucket of experience

with all the uniqueness of

its chips and flakes

and swirls of colours,

at the end of our days,

Simply, gets poured back

into the Ocean

of fractals and pixels

and the spaces between

from and of, [whence] it came.

My Daddy had said,

"Always leave [the world]

the places you cross through,

a little better

than the way you found it."

Do no harm.

Create in the Fabric but good.

This gift has, like a compass of

a mind flower blossomed,

grown in belief within;

as bright coloured stranding

of That-Fabric-Itself

from and of [whence] it came.

(8 January '17)