Prevail captured it mistakes

 

Few wealth resource us way

 

Chaos through cosmos so community

 

Reality is a verb

A noun's a snapshot, held in place,

A single frame from time and space.

We name a thing, as if it's done,

A finished race, already run.

But every part and every soul

Is just a piece of one great scroll

That's still unrolling, verb by verb,

A truth our labels can't perturb.

Consider flame, a flickering light,

We call it "fire," a noun of sight.

And yet we know it's not a thing,

But rapid, restless "blistering."

It has no substance, form, or frame,

It's just the action of its name—

A constant motion, bright and brief,

A chapter, not a single leaf.

Now think of stone, which seems so sound,

Asleep forever on the ground.

It’s just a fire in deep slow-mo,

An eon's burn, a patient flow.

It's "hardening" from ancient heat,

Then "softening" with rain and sleet.

The only difference in their state

Is nothing more than clock-hand weight.

And what of you? Are you a noun?

A fixed identity in town?

No, you're a river, ever new,

With thoughts and cells all passing through.

You're not a portrait on a wall;

You are the artist, brush and all,

A constant "being," "doing," " SENSE,"

A present in the future tense.

So let the nouns be useful lies,

The clever tools that we devise.

But know that all things ebb and blend;

There is no start, there is no end.

There’s only process, grand and true,

A cosmos "doing" through and through.

The world's a poem, not a list,

A constant unfolding, not a gist.

Shade complacency different us blissful

 

Future unknownable resources made book

 

Religion victims it me fool