We are each and all, are we not, a combination
of beings both material and spiritual
whatever that means? (I mean, what does that mean?)
But then we in turn may combine to form
larger beings, as any schoolboy will tell you
so that ‘being’ as such, or the spectrum of being
becomes a matter of scale
there being no limit either way
I mean, why would there be?
So that no matter the size of the conglomerate being
you are a part of it, never excluded
which means that the entire shemozzle is an extension
in every direction of whatever is looking through your eyes
which, logically speaking, is exactly the same
as what’s looking through my eyes and even hearing
through the ears if that’s possible and touching with the finger
not to mention the good old sense of balance
without which it’s pretty hard to get around
And this half-baked, on the way to somewhere
cobbled together pilgrim might as well be perfect
so too the half-pilgrimmed path he’s walking on
with its sidekick stones and unlikely water towers
and if, as they say, God is not mocked, so perfection
is not boring and requires to visit another
perfection just up the road according to the map
that doesn’t exist if you take the printing press
and phones and GPS out of the equation
And being the gardener at Château Voltaire (actually
the leaf raker), and Voltaire himself being possibly
the world’s first communist, albeit a very rich one
..at this very village castle on the Swiss border where
François-Marie might clear out at the drop of a hat
given his propensity for saying stuff designed to upset
those whose nose for francs Swiss or otherwise
did not allow them to approve of rich communists..
being then this.. and the son of a cigar salesman..
