I
think I have found
the
me that is left
after
the endless,
countless
abrasions
of
the suffering and
mirth
of this life
is
a smoothened
out
old piece of what
was
brought here
in
the first place.
The ashes and the
cinders have not
flown away.
The ashes and the
cinders have not
flown away.
It
is the me that loves
as
much to walk
and
read and write
and
cook and make love
and
sit and sit and sit
as
had been here all along.
It
is the one
by
the fountain reading
the
classics, it is
the
one with head hung
backward
over the rocks
listening
into the cavity
of
the roaring stream.
He
has been here
but
is now all the
better
for having learned
that
these simple likes
are
more than that;
these
ambling attractions and
desires
of the human heart
I
hold and nurture
deep
in this chest
are
laconic and lapidary
koans
of existence carved
out
in the aeons of my
days.
They are more than whim
and
fancy; they sing out
as
implacable standards of
my
me. Sing this song,
my
soul, sing that
reaching
in and finding
a
gem of delight can
proffer
more riches than
caravans
of cash. Sing, my
heart,
that glee and bliss
have
found more wealth in you
than
all could imagine. What is
left
at the end of the day
of
sadness is a sense a little
more
keen, a heart a little
more
refined toward its true wont
and
wealth beyond measure –
joy.
Simple glinting charm comes
only
after we see the depths of
its
lack. Grand elongations of
hospitality
and grace are only
shadows
left in their own
sensed
absence. Sing, that when
a
man sees it all carried away
he
finds then a stillness that
betrays
its true worth.
For
this, for all this,
I
sing at what I think
I
have found, a place
among
myself
a
seat within my me.
Here
resides in each souls’
center
a mountain pass
of
freedom and a canyon
of
wonder and grand design.
For,
everything belongs;
even
that which we only speak
of
in absence by abrasion.
Shadows
on the river
walls
of constant change
and
removal.
That
which is no longer here
sits
stalwart beside all we
still
behold.
Everything
belongs and leaves
its
smoothening wear and gives us
to
know that it is all in there –
quarks
eternally nestled
by
the quasars of empty mind.
In
it all,
I
think I have found
my
me.
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