PROOF OF THE PUDDING
We sat in the Zen garden playing chess
the wind came up
sp we removed to
the gazebo
the wind died down
so we
sought out
the chess garden
to solve riddles and puzzles
all crafted many
many yeara ago
to inculcate mindful Zen
the sound of a well
half-full
contemplating emptiness
contemplating plenitude
since we left the gazebo
a moment ago
it has entered a state
if steep decline
a winged insect noisily buzzes past
iridescent: almost like
a futuristic tiny
flying machine
an alien drone
though to the besr
of my knowledge it
did not devour anything,
neither was it eaten
it did nevertheless I feel, we felt,
constiute proof
that the world needs
chaos, the Universe needs speculation.
poems 2 die for 