The Tao of Balanced Light

The moment
subdivides itself
into a roving speculation.

Is this
the past revisiting us?

Is this
the future
in its pre-apprehensional  haste
to make a stand?

Déjà vu
sits like a spinning top
tip tiding left and right,
forward and backwards,
balancing
as it falls
into a centrifuge
of wobbling hope.

And yet,
the Tao,
present in its persistence,
angles not
the more
than a staggering simplicity:

Her nape ascends
into a chasm,
and that repeats
above and below,
the brain
which thinks
to sense the universe
at play and poised,

and that finality
of being
where texture
and iridescence
meet and glow red hot
in the fire
of unendings
still unnamed.