All Adds Upwards

Hear now: musicians transcend maya 
 (the illusion of self we each have).

An orchestra gathers its mana,

and song rises from the nascent hive.

Harmony: honey of the many.

To fuse in unison is to live.

To lose oneself is life’s best honey,

oozing into a pool from a line

of woven sweet. The whole great world hones

its taste on this music. It’s zany:

the swarm of cells inside a bee’s bones,

the million details that make a home,

all your memories dropped from boxes—

from mess, a lucid lyric will come,

the chaos looped and closed in a link,

fit into a geometric comb,

the sweet cellular soul of a womb.