What the squirrel heard from its burrow

Every object—
a chair, a tree, a rock,
the wriggling worms underneath,
a spider weaving its web,
the throes of its paralyzed victim,
a spoken word, the unspoken,
a brushstroke, a birdsong,
church bells, funeral pyre,
jubilation, innocence,  
the mountains, a cloudburst,
an overripened sky,
is its own philosophy. 

Every man, woman, and child
is their own philosophy,
whether they choose
to fall or rise,
to hold on or let go
to speak or not to remain silent,
to love, be indifferent, or to remain hostile,
to learn, unlearn, or be stagnant,
everything we consume
or purge,
every drug
that enhances, excites, 
or softens the experience,
is a variable in the equation,
is a part of the becoming.

Whether we choose
to be or not to be,
we add to the experience,
we merge into the consciousness,
we become the oneness.