To Hunt The Coyote -- Courtyard of The Suns

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Date Posted: 15:46:48 07/07/00 Fri
Author: Daffodil Angel
Author Host/IP: spider-wq053.proxy.aol.com / 205.188.200.174
Subject: To Hunt The Coyote

Everyone is a flower in the world
This year, I am an Arctomecon californica
Trapped here in a corner of this desert
Unadorned, rare, a golden bloom as bitter as raw
But recently I�ve been feeling some sort of sensation
I can feel the ground shifting beneath my roots
I�m blending in with the great green garden
Now my buds are blooming with pure fruit

It�s pretty great to have plenty of faith within you. Containing no such pride is like hunting down the coyote. Coyotes are wise, cunning animals who do nothing but sound their cries of wisdom upon the arousing arroyo toward the raging river

I find myself lingering from the palm of my hand
Longing to prognosticate from the state that I�m in
Trying to discover the meaning of belief,
trying to get myself some leverage
We have all been hanging on this tree of thought,
Trying to break free of this perplexing sap that keeps us here
There has been an umpteenth number of times
When one was close to shattering it�s branch down
It�s just so hard to find the answer these days
One way or another, our efforts end with a repetend
It�s just so hard to find the answer these days
Small pieces of this jigsaw have gone to descend

Life is quite an equation. You can sum up the number of times you�ve been sorry, and divide them by the square root of memories. Then, you can add this undetermined number by true belief to the second power, and here you�ve got a number that not even Occam�s razor could round off to.

I would just like to know
There is much evidence here but
I would just like to know
And I�m lying on the promised land
Dreaming with the daffodils
During the apex of the summer day
Dreams don�t grow on trees, they cannot grow
Without the passion of the misty rain
That�s why I have been here before
I would just like to know
What are we longing for?

It�s just like hunting down the coyotes! Coyotes paint the desert with their quiescent spirits and wander around the slumbering canyon with undiscovered wisdom. Why do you suppose they howl to the gleaming moon anyhow? If only we stop chasing these coyotes, maybe a huge piece of this puzzle could be solved? Or could it be that it all was just a dream?

Copyright 2000
Noah Eaton
7/7/00

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