seeing patterns

the life of seeing patterns,

from the viscosity of water,

to the pattern that coastal birds fly,

from the posed distances between people,

to the corners of the mouth on smiles,

from the psychic feel of freeway traffic,

to the way I come to have a feel, 

from the edge-work of contrasting colors,

to patterns that seem to be a mind-work activity,

as if recognition is its own reward.

what made me think

that thought was a calming affect?

how far down the rabbit hole of being

must I go?

patterns,

from the allegiance of raindrops,

to the persuasion of clouds in passing,

from the season of leaves falling,

to the wind rearranging the landfill of snow,

from the sequencing of conversational tones,

to the embodiment of a human embrace,

from shaking other's hands,

to the formal quality that comes from a stare.

the dazzle of sight delivers,

as does the rhythm of sounds occurring.

in reception of these,

what does my role of awareness offer?

an after alignment of pause or participation?

an inward narrative, 

as if inwardly telling myself of my life?

recognition plays a cruel game,

as if impactful is its just reward.

it creates an ocean of informationals

and I am somehow required to cognitively swim.

I'm not even sure a pattern knows of itself

or even of its self as in my existence.

surely there must be some cueing going on,

some shared semblance in its function.

everything seems so coy,

in its evident presentation.

and patterns are what I get from observance,

as if that implores a meaning into a stance,

and a life of mine, into seeing 

and sensing these patterns.

maybe that is code for calmness to occur

or a means of rendering bystander composure.

it certainly gives me a means of patience,

in the gathering-in of a certitude claimed.

it's a wonder what the brain goes through,

in attempts at self-appearing to be sane . . .