Cicada when, among the tree-tops,
You sip some dew and sing your song;
For every single thing is yours
That you survey among the fields
And all the things the woods produce.
The farmers' constant company,
You damage nothing that is theirs;
Esteemed you are by every human
As the summer's sweet-voiced prophet.
The Muses love you, and Apollo too,
Who's gifted you with high-pitched song.
Old age does nothing that can wear you,
Earth's sage and song-enamored son;
You suffer not, being flesh-and-blood-less,
A god-like creature, virtually."
difference a daze makes as opposed to claritas
uber alles and the purpose it takes to win a war:
aims, objectives, determination & strategic planning,
saying what I mean & meaning what I say, walking
the talk & talking the walk & covering ground crying
is covered, denied & banished to cellar or attic
or taken apart. The skin of a living being cuts off an
outside from an inside. (G. Spencer Brown, Laws of Form)
there be? nothing but a cheese ball or billiard—one part
is the whole: and unity, an un-emerged phenomenon
waiting for its severance and the relationship of parts,
particulars, and participation and partisans.