I remember when I was a kid
And I overheard an older couple
Talking…
I was stunned and amazed
That it took them so long
To talk about
What they each thought
God was.
Even then I wondered
How they could be
Together for so long
As strangers.
I didn't have words
For it then,
As I do now
Many years later…
Intellectual Masturbation.
There it is,
Deep in my belly
Like knots, tied
Gordian style.
I grok wrongness
And the words fail me,
And the fate of the world
Lies upon it,
Or at the center of it…
Something is missing
And I can only
Perceive the negative
Space.
A continuation of the
Divine conversation,
Where Buddha's tread
Lightly,
Quietly,
Silently…
“I” lives at the center
of it.
There is no room
For the collective good
Through action.
Everyone is too happy
With their thoughts
& their feelings
& the process
to find the balance
between making
the world a better place
and acting to do so,
and talking, feeling,
and thinking about it.
Like ancient sword dances
Art & peace
Thought & war
In a dance over
An instrument of death.
I don't seek
The sword,
But I am fascinated
By the space it leaves
Behind,
And what I can bring to it
After its passing.
