Poetry

On the edge of freedom, I feel like losing my desires. I whisper them into the ear of a mockingbird and send them further on in its song. So I let go and as I fall down the abyss I turn into a thousand drifting currents. Flowing with life and swirling around the obstacles, lessening these patiently. I am constant change and therefore always the same.

Utterly alone

I am having dinner, the last meal of the day. Like the previous
evenings it is not just me eating at this table. The usual
scavengers, little ants – are with me. Hurriedly they walk across
the surface, seemingly aimless, guided by the hope to stumble upon
a crumble. But tonight while I sit there eating, I smudge every
single one of them, not because I don’t like ants, but simply
because I want to be alone…utterly alone. Probably best you are
not here.

The Well

I stood there in the back of your garden,
next to the well that had neither water nor any significant depth.
Staring at it I realised that I am very good at noticing what is missing, what is wrong.
Also very skilled at focussing on it and expanding this perception.
Even creating a pain that cuts through my middle like I was a blunt log
surrendering to the sharpness of a rusty hatchet breaking me asunder.
Into one part of the past and I don’t even know where the other part is
so all encompassing is that sensation.
It is the human condition to be drawn to things familiar,
to what you think you are really good at.
But standing there at this well that seems to defy its purpose I grasp a gap in this scheme.
I gasp and sense a moment of choice.
And I wonder what would happen if I was riding my mind into lofty heights instead?
And if there I found some things reversed?
Where there was a dark vastness sprinkled with white there would be white space and black
stars. Not cold but heat. I would see this not through my own eyes, but the eyes of many, of
people or creatures that perceive with pure eyes and senses like they have no concept, no schemas
or judgements.
Like beings that would be penetrated by this experience and don’t even make a difference between
light, dark vast space and matter. Instead allowing a sense of awe to glide through you and
knowing inherently how on an elemental level everything is the same. How every part of you, of me,
the pleasant, the painful were once part of a star burning bright until it burned no more and
broke asunder.
Creating people that build wells without immense depth or water.
Because it is the knowing where water comes from that matters.