A Model of Being

The Three-Part Process Philosophy for Our Times, Waxed in Prose

Center

Reality emerges through the pores of the godhead.
It whistles with the air and smells of sage.
Steady, settled high above the peak of Lone Mountain
Clouds paint the sky surreal.
Across the Way
Nestled in the green August valley
We experience the undulations of an everlasting light.
A hawk haws in the distance.
A hummingbird flaps its wings
And lets the flower know its beauty is for a reason.
Bees buzz and the cattle catch a cool breeze.
We are enchanted…