04 September 2013

Sixty-Two


62


Waking up to yet another dreamy day,
Trapped in a body racked with one bother or another,
The mind willy-nilly between agony and ecstasy, exasperation and rapture.
Curious how thought can play the gamut between amusing and tiring from one moment to the next.
What ceaselessly pointless vainglorious absurdity this much ado about nothing.
The appeal of ever returning to this manifest dreamtime
Has pretty much run its course.

* * * *
“Let us play a game of irony and paradox,” suggested one quantum.
“With every agony and ecstasy imaginable,” added another.
“And a slathering of absurdity,” suggested a third.
“But why bother?” moaned a fourth.
“Why not?” said yet another.
“Indeed,” agreed all the others.

* * * *
What an amazing, even astonishing thing
To run into intelligent folk who lack the doubt,
The critical thinking ability of a yam,
When it comes to superstition
And other absurdities.

* * * *
The free have no need for dogma.

* * * *
A different day, a different night,
A different container with a different eye,
But ever of the same indivisible essential nature,
No matter the given who, what, where, when, why or how.

* * * *
There is nothing more than this ephemeral now
That can be more than witnessed as a fleeting dream.
Consciousness may play out every distraction imaginable,
But it will never be anything more than the wind of its own design.

* * * *
Who first came up with the idea that god was a separate deity,
And that it must be feared and worshipped and kowtowed to daily.
Who else but someone craving the usual suspects: power, fame, fortune.
And that, along with a few other trifling details, is human history in a nutshell.