Let Us Return Home

Let us return Home, let us go back,
Useless is this reckoning of seeking and getting,
Delight permeates all of today.
From the blue ocean of death
Life is flowing like nectar.
In life there is death; in death there is life.
So where is fear, where is fear?
The birds in the sky are singing “No death, no death!”
Day and night the tide of Immortality
Is descending here on earth.

Falling

It smells of dust
as the gentle rain begins.
I can taste it growing in the damp air;
no sweetness, not now.
These tears falling, falling, falling

Loose Ends

Each human life an epic
and unrepeatable anecdote
is still but a sample size of one
and may in the end be the control
for a much wilder experiment
being conducted in the next room.



The role of being myself
fell to my understudy
sometime in my fifteenth year.
That gawky loner
for whom nothingness came easy
had spent his life in the wings
mouthing the lines unaware
the smallness of his perspective.

Why

While examining the why's
(I want to know the reasons
my writing has ceased)
I see a tendency to give up
trying to relate an experience
you can not relate to
whether through pity, or envy,
or simple forgiveness
and so it drifts away
from the volume of my life experience
and the memory seems out of place,
almost mythical,
wandering restless in the fog
no longer even looking
for a place to land.

Trying to Relate

While examining the why's
(I want to know the reasons
my writing has ceased)
I see a tendency to give up
trying to relate an experience
you can not comprehend;
whether through pity, or envy,
or simple forgiveness.
And so it drifts away
from the volume of my life experience
and the memory seems out of place,
almost mythical,
wandering restless in the fog
no longer even looking
for a place to land.