Still: a poem.

How the concept of a holon calls into question where we begin and end.

Recently, I have been taken by the concept of a holon. A holon is something that is a simultaneously a whole and a part. Quantum theory is beginning to make fuzzy the binary of this and that.

Borders of categorization are much looser than our experience of matter lead us to believe. A body is comprised of thousands of microorganisms. A tree is made up of water, soil, sun, etc. A town holds a million stories.

Where does the you of you begin and end? And, in this way, how might the unbound self be simply an eternal swirl of crossing-over and intertwining?

The poem below plays with some of these themes as it might relate to a loss.

Still

They remain in air
entangled 
in light
in place
Matter and memory merging.

This
the limitlessness of our lives
the bleeding beyond
the myriad of ways
we show up 
while we are here,
while we are not here.

While we are here
even when
we are not here.

They are slippery now
the search is no
one map
to
one location.

Secret…
perhaps this has always been.

Perhaps 
what we are
is not bound by anything 
but the unimagined. 

Perhaps the finite
attaches to the infinite
through what it loves.

Closer, further, all the same —
Dead, alive, something else —

I still feel you.