30 May 2014

One Hundred and Forty-Five


Existence is long no matter how short, and short no matter how long.
You are likely not as healthy as you were a year ago today,
Nor as unhealthy as you are apt be a year hence.
Real wealth is a robust body and mind.
Spend your genetic allowance however you will,
With whatever intelligence and attentiveness you can muster.

* * * *
The truth of it is, that not even one atom
Across an entire cosmos indivisibly full of them,
Can for even one iota of an eternal moment, still itself.
And yet, the awareness within and without its ever-churning all,
Has never once across all time and space, even stirred.

* * * *
Do faces shape the minds, or minds, the faces?
The winds of time sculpt in many ways,
And are by their many creations
Blown many directions.

* * * *
The lonely love, the lonely hate.

* * * *
Try not to make that mistake again.

* * * *
Gaia’s inexplicable garden is forever undone.
The dystopian malaise is very much underway.

* * * *
The past becomes longer, deeper, fuller,
And the unfolding future ever more expansive.
That is, if you continue bothering to imagine it all real.
It takes a good deal of effortlessness to be right here, right now.

* * * *
For what, exactly, are you hoping?
Power?  Fame?  Fortune?  Security? … Immortality?
You already have so much:  life, awareness, health, food, air, water …
As austere as it may sound, the things often taken for granted are truly your greatest wealth.
After all, you only abide this manifest play for as long as mortal fate allows.
Try not to squander its brief window of beingness too lightly.