"The Miracle of Water" (after Emoto)
The Miracle of Water
(after photos from The Miracle of Water by Masaru Emoto)
Truth is a crystal.
The devil is a black hole.
Love will make you beautiful.
Hate is crystalline,
but it blocks you inside.
Affection is a snowflake
growing out of an arbor.
Rage and murder forms
a figure of an assassin
with his cock and bow.
Unhappiness is a word
which should be avoided.
Do it! makes a crater
in the heart, a volcano.
Let's do it harbors a peace
sign in the middle, is a bright
flower of fern leaf growing,
cuttings of lit evergreens.
Happiness is refined
and highly detailed, sharp,
in focus. The soul, in Japanese,
is created by combining
to speak with Evil Spirit.
(Evil Spirit is a toad-shaped
boot print in the mud,
a melanoma blotch.
The soul looks like friendship,
fleshy crystals circling
a black hole turned into portal.
Friend is a single star
of the same crystals,
a single point of light,
a platinum stamp for sealing
wax on the envelope.
Thanks to you is the perfect
reason for living, which tries
but is stunted, a hexagram
of melted snowflake
(a growing darkness forming
a hurricanes eye in the middle),
a target, a Tibetan mandala.
I'm sorry is thanks collapsed
in on itself, crumpled
around a jagged-mouthed void.
Peace of mind is a stable crystal,
is a woman beneath the roof
of her home, a leaf emerging,
a shaft going down to the core,
to the rich vein, simultaneously.
Self-love is more involved:
all hands raised in all directions,
is many-faceted, many paths
full of energy, each one
tending its own forest.
Spousal love is twinned,
one nestled within the other's
peace of mind, one
protecting the other, six
spokes aligned in the overlap.
Family love is an outward
spiral, three layers of water
building, bee-like, from
a single source.
Neighborly love is shining harmony,
is a kaleidoscope of trace
and chance, an endless play.
Love of country is the pentagon
inside a hexagram inside the swords
of fleur d' lis, a single crown
off to the right; all inside a giant planet
(the sun?) with a sawed-off handle.
The love for humanity is a beautiful
formation, an engagement ring
with an arena in the center.
A Buddhist sutra will
get you an Indian yarn painting,
a God's Eye of light, the pegs
it's strung on, the shape
of a woman's legs, as if all
is hooked by birth. It's all there.
The circle and the infinite
form, the weave and the blocking:
namu-amida-butsu.
Namu-myoho-renge-kyo
will turn tap water
back into snowflakes,
both crystal and web.
Love and gratitude
will get you back,
back from bacterial mold,
back from water left sitting
in front a television, away
from the ringworm watermark
in front of a constant computer,
the bombed out petri dish
look of the microwaved drop.
Love and gratitude will grow
you from the unforma
of your cell, will create
something from the womb
of possibility, a fetus
under the sonar of your voice.
A new being, a new light shed'
A new thirst and the incessant quenching.
Namaste.
I love you. I thank you.
I wish you harmony and happiness.
May you find your peace of mind.
Lorna Dee Cervantes
4/18/09
I'll be returning to this with the photos these were written from; almost like the poetry of water. Things speak to us. We should at least have the manners to speak back.
(after photos from The Miracle of Water by Masaru Emoto)
Truth is a crystal.
The devil is a black hole.
Love will make you beautiful.
Hate is crystalline,
but it blocks you inside.
Affection is a snowflake
growing out of an arbor.
Rage and murder forms
a figure of an assassin
with his cock and bow.
Unhappiness is a word
which should be avoided.
Do it! makes a crater
in the heart, a volcano.
Let's do it harbors a peace
sign in the middle, is a bright
flower of fern leaf growing,
cuttings of lit evergreens.
Happiness is refined
and highly detailed, sharp,
in focus. The soul, in Japanese,
is created by combining
to speak with Evil Spirit.
(Evil Spirit is a toad-shaped
boot print in the mud,
a melanoma blotch.
The soul looks like friendship,
fleshy crystals circling
a black hole turned into portal.
Friend is a single star
of the same crystals,
a single point of light,
a platinum stamp for sealing
wax on the envelope.
Thanks to you is the perfect
reason for living, which tries
but is stunted, a hexagram
of melted snowflake
(a growing darkness forming
a hurricanes eye in the middle),
a target, a Tibetan mandala.
I'm sorry is thanks collapsed
in on itself, crumpled
around a jagged-mouthed void.
Peace of mind is a stable crystal,
is a woman beneath the roof
of her home, a leaf emerging,
a shaft going down to the core,
to the rich vein, simultaneously.
Self-love is more involved:
all hands raised in all directions,
is many-faceted, many paths
full of energy, each one
tending its own forest.
Spousal love is twinned,
one nestled within the other's
peace of mind, one
protecting the other, six
spokes aligned in the overlap.
Family love is an outward
spiral, three layers of water
building, bee-like, from
a single source.
Neighborly love is shining harmony,
is a kaleidoscope of trace
and chance, an endless play.
Love of country is the pentagon
inside a hexagram inside the swords
of fleur d' lis, a single crown
off to the right; all inside a giant planet
(the sun?) with a sawed-off handle.
The love for humanity is a beautiful
formation, an engagement ring
with an arena in the center.
A Buddhist sutra will
get you an Indian yarn painting,
a God's Eye of light, the pegs
it's strung on, the shape
of a woman's legs, as if all
is hooked by birth. It's all there.
The circle and the infinite
form, the weave and the blocking:
namu-amida-butsu.
Namu-myoho-renge-kyo
will turn tap water
back into snowflakes,
both crystal and web.
Love and gratitude
will get you back,
back from bacterial mold,
back from water left sitting
in front a television, away
from the ringworm watermark
in front of a constant computer,
the bombed out petri dish
look of the microwaved drop.
Love and gratitude will grow
you from the unforma
of your cell, will create
something from the womb
of possibility, a fetus
under the sonar of your voice.
A new being, a new light shed'
A new thirst and the incessant quenching.
Namaste.
I love you. I thank you.
I wish you harmony and happiness.
May you find your peace of mind.
Lorna Dee Cervantes
4/18/09
I'll be returning to this with the photos these were written from; almost like the poetry of water. Things speak to us. We should at least have the manners to speak back.
Labels: Emoto, Lorna Dee Cervantes, Miracle of Water, poem, Poetry
posted by Lorna Dee Cervantes at 6:45 PM
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