seven words attempting to describe one ‘thing’
a thing that can never be an object
so how can IT be described?
and how can IT be found?
impossible – IT’s never been lost!
seven words all amounting to the same no-thing:
the Presence of the absence of ‘me’
there has been rain in the night
and the earth’s breath
is fresh and fruity this dawn
what am I?
‘I’ is the Knowingness
apperceiving that ‘me’ is not
and only ‘I-ness’ is
intellectual acceptance of this
self thinks it has understood something
and is pleased
but as this savage wisdom percolates down
into the darker layers
something called me
isn’t so happy
the battle of battles begins but
the outcome is inevitable –
winners in every corner
all bets collectable!
turns out there’s only one Player!
the adorables known as my parents celebrate 67 years of marriage today!
she who identified with the idea of ‘daughter’ can no longer find herself in the idea
but nevertheless, daughter-ing happens
later, an image of the old ‘me’ arises, just like in a dream:
a vacuum cleaner, sucking greedily, insatiably
sucking experiences and teachings and philosophies and beliefs into a bursting bag
me, me, mine!
the bag began emptying on a summer’s evening in Alicante,
(full moon rising, magenta bougainvillea against palest indigo sky
the Lover known as Death silently keeping company)
and once underway, reversal was impossible
with the departure of the last dust-balls,
the bag and the vacuum cleaner disappeared
Lover never left