the black sand beach is no less pristine, but the mind feels it is.
Black Sand Beach [Haiku]
1

Nothing is straightforward,
or simple.
Everything is a messy mix
of shades
blended in swirling clouds—
chaos clouds.
Those who can redraw the world
with sharp, angular boundaries
are the masters of self-deception:
for all deception is self-deception.
It's like sticking one's head out the window of the southbound night train. A rushing thunder fills the ears -- almost deafening -- and that's before the passing northbound train shears past, letting wail the whistle in one long blow. And (now) one is deaf, but the cyclone eddies shake one's flesh & rattle through one's bones so hard that one can whole body hear: one's entire skeleton vibrating like those tiny inner ear bones. It was dark before the scintillant streams of strobing light burned a void into one's picture place. There's no smelling a thing in that crossfire hurricane, but one can taste big gulps of train exhaust -- exhaust with a cotton candy consistency but foul tasting to the last bite. And then it is quiet and dark and peaceful, and it's not clear whether one is alive or dead, and it's not clear whether one cares whether one is alive or dead.
Diamondless Diamonds? Sounds like Daoist doublespeak or a crazy Zen koan. But, it's that which has imaginary value, but not real value. Much of what human hands reach for or produce (& which human minds obsess upon) are diamondless diamonds. People stare at them with covetous eyes, but when those eyes saccade away there's no reason to believe the diamondless diamond still exists. Eyes covet what the mind knows to have no particular worth. Diamondless Diamonds may change the world for moments at a time, but then are gone - and instantly forgotten.