I marvel at my ease observing a spear of summer grass

I marvel at my ease observing a spear of summer grass

A candid sunlight reflects on its texture

Veins running through in parallel

Xylem pumping water from down below

And phloem sharing sugars in return

I lean to observe the intricacy

I can only discern so so much with the resolution of my eyesight

A glimpse of the cuticle and below

Where the invisible chloroplasts let themselves be known

By the vivid green colour they cast

But for them, the matter is the light they capture

Harvesting its brilliance

Turning it into life juice

Supplied by tiny mitochondria

Supported by Golgi bodies and vacuoles

Taking their part in one unit of the work

In the tissue that appears uniform to me

But among them are meristematic cells

That can divide and become two of one and supply new ones

And adjust themselves to what is needed where they are

Which is determined by endless streams and configurations of proteins

Assembled in ribosomes from ammino acids

Using special message molecules sent from the nucleus

Where there is the nucleic acid, an ultimate sanctuary

A shrine where all of the messages are written, but in advance

Even in the seedling

In a way, all of the information of this grass and this leaf part of it

Is inside, is there

Right in the center of each of the multitude of cells

Building up this complex

Trasforming the sunlight into bonds in sugars, transporting gasses and nitrates from the soil

So that it could function as a whole,

and in the apex, in the meristem,

two copies of one be made

Each with their own copy of this nuclear acid molecule

This essence of the plant in a pinpoint

Which knows how the plant should grow

To repeat and repeat and repeat and be itself in itself

And I look at it on this lump of soil

On this tiny ribbon

Between the chaos turbulence and uncertainty of the earth’s mantle

And the tedium of empty space

I can witness something interesting

Something unpredictable, yet regular,

Complex, yet structured

I can see nor beginning nor end, but I can make out forms and levels of some hierarchy

Which is also akin to me

Because “me” is also a collection of cells with doubly-helixed description of the whole in every part

Building up forms that can receipt and react

For example to light

And the manner it is reflected

It can discern patterns and shapes

A spear of summer grass

Separating it from the neighbouring stems and stalks

But what’s more! To assign it a name

As to the plant itself and leaves and venations and tissues and cells and organeles and proteins and molecules and atoms and quarks

Patterns of life mapped to patters of firing of neurons

Interconnected networks

And to map them into changes of the air pressure

Or regular spots on some surface

Distinguishable by another lumps of tissue

If they are not busy with jealousy or deception or blunders or lies

But why would they be

When they could observe this spear

Not giving in to their fears or deliria

Seeing it sa much as they can

And seeing themselves seeing it the same

Capture and talk

These clusters of organic matter

Organised to the extend of witnessing and responding and rearanging the organisation of everything else

Emergent in this ribbon where it is possible but sort of stable

Even to the extend of forming names and associations in a form vaguely attributable as poetry

By a persona typing them on a machine built to calculate and simulate and understand and carry out the patterns in yet another form

Who doesn’t actually observe the spear of summer grass

But neurons fire as if it was

To bring out the true poetry, the one on the meadow

Or here