Absent Is The Whole Poem by Tomas Randolph

Absent Is The Whole



A full green, late summer afternoon on the mountain.
Something beckons; it calls from within the winds and rain.
I try to visualize a pair of human eyes until…

Off in the distance, water stirs and flows, down this lush still moment passing and eroding my worries away. It slowly erases the mountain by removing rock. Caring the broken pieces to a river flowing north far and away.

“Startled”
A flock of grackles dropp seed shells from these towering trees while they feed. They fall and tap on the metal roof. The little wings flutter as they feast and then rush into flight.

These are only details.
There was motion and like a breath the birds have gone.

Absent is the whole, There are only details.
Small snaps and whispers signal the wandering deer.
Four nimble legs wander along trails that are easily unnoticed by the human eye.
Bark that has been trodden on covers the subtle trail where a trees decays along the animals path.

These passages are waiting but not untried, and no less traveled by some.
I will not even try to see it all at once. There are only details now, absent is the whole.

Deeper I tumble into this sensuous reflection that pools the fallen poplar leaves as it hides the many mysteries that rest beneath a dark golden surface.
The Pond, down in the holler fills and spills, while tadpoles unaware grow and play.

There are only details perhaps the whole of the forest is an illusion. I could wander through the mountains for hours, but only while I sit and rest do I see what may be true.

There are only details I cannot see the whole.
I celebrate with the small blue bells and marvel as the hooded warbler who decorates the sky. Still absent is any sense of the complete whole. Only details,

These moments seem only limited by time or perhaps they serve to arouse a thirst for eternity?

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