Tropism

An idea is a dead leaf
Motivated by a breeze,
Moving like a butterfly,
Deceiving the thoughtful beast.

An irregular pattern
Of symbols in an unknown
Language, lacking a context,
Contains what information?

Meaning depends on living
Minds, as far as minds can see.
Ideas alone move nothing.
Sunflowers turn more freely.

An idea is no sender,
Nor is it a receiver,
Though life generated it.
It moves as force acts on it.

And yet, study that dead leaf.
If it lacks intention now,
Ask where intentions come from,
And where could intentions go?

Unless matter is seeded
By thoughts of another world,
All intentions that matter
Are intentional matter.

Roots and hyphae make their trades.
Flowers anticipate sunrise.
Leaves drift in the old oak’s shade
I carved when we were alive.