Who sees mountains on footprints,
the skins of onions as flood
plains, blades of grass as
bamboo forests, scarlet feathers
as skeletal sunsets.

Who delves into the soul of things,
penetrates the ordinary layer
of reality and comprehends
inexplicable beauty everywhere.

Whose impeccable sight grasps
the wonder of creation, the
mystery inherent in the largest
and smallest form of life on
the planet.

Whose eye focuses on totality and
singularity simultaneously.
Holds the past, present, and future
of any sentient being within silent stake.

Whose wrinkled skin bulges and encircles
the enormous energy of my gargantuan
gaze. Whose skin crackles and folds around
ultimate knowing.

The vision of the planet, whose images
are stored in the infinite crevices
of my ancient memory.

Who sees beyond the pictures of life,
death and rebirth into the realm of
the unconscious.
Who sees dream sequences
without closing my eyes.

Who imagines and envisions outcomes
never before predicted.