Just when the flesh is willing, then the spirit becomes weak:
our words bubble up easier, but they’re harder to speak.
So often, much less useful when determining one’s fate,
and many times, just wasted, once the hour becomes late. Then when the spirit’s willing, the flesh can tend to fail:
there’s steam to blow the whistle, but rust built up on the rails.
The reflex meant for rolling gets caught up, its aging gears
left toothless and un-oiled, neglected for so many years.We spend our spirit carelessly in worship of the flesh:
admiring how a thing performs based solely on its dress,
and burning out our bodies chasing bright and shining mist;
extravagantly wasting wealth on what doesn’t exist. And when the flesh is worn and old, we try to lay the blame
on time and chance, forgiving of the player, not the game.
Then spirit tries to rally, but the best that it can do
is play the sad curmudgeon for a last season or two. 24 APR 2023
There is no substitute for it, you know;
it doesn’t grow on trees, or wait,
like opportunity will, for you
to make a stab or take a chance.
Just what it is, is hard to say;
at least, descriptions formed by words
most often tend to miss the mark.
It doesn’t fit well in a box.
It isn’t what you think it is;
besides, it’s not so stuck in time
that mere conveniences apply
or easy labels stay affixed.
There is no substitute for it; and yet,
its absence most won’t even note.
Like air, that seems so commonplace
until it’s missing from your throat.
04 AUG 2020
There is no plan of study,
no readiness assessment,
no work at tilling fertile soil
in preparation for it;
enlightenment just happens,
like a sudden strike of lightning.
There’s no way to see it coming,
nor a warning bell that sounds.
There is no path toward it,
no life of worthy action,
no certain way of being
more conducive to its coming;
enlightenment is sudden,
almost random, never plotted.
There’s no one way or another
that it finds you in the end.
It’s not warm and fuzzy lighting,
nor in any way a comfort.
No one’s happy struck by lightning,
all at once, you’re caught on fire.
When enlightenment arrives,
your life is totally disrupted;
once it happens (for an instant)
your whole everything is changed.
22 AUG 2017
There is no religion for the whole of “god”,
just some small and all-too-human scraps.
We are not equipped to know the universe,
nor much more than we hold in our laps.
There is nothing that is end-all, be-all
that we can imagine. Only fools
seek a formula that folds it all in;
we know not the game, or half the rules.
There is no united, single pathway,
nor a sole, most sacred mountaintop.
All we see are ripples and faint echoes,
not where things begin or where they stop.
We are at the shore of a great ocean,
thinking that our buckets hold the sea.
Salt dolls sent to measure depth and distance,
we dissolve. That’s how it’s meant to be.
There is nothing sacred that is separate;
just some shattered fragments, nothing more.
That we cannot put them all together
doesn’t mean we’ve failed. There is no score.
It is not religion that imagines
some connection that escapes our sight.
The small gods we carve out in our image
leave us blind and deaf out in the night.
There is nothing missing from the picture;
only our misjudging of the frame.
Drawing rigid lines between each other,
we each die dividing up the blame.
25 JUL 2017
We either seek to view the world today
through some past generation’s worn and tired lens,
or try to filter what is past and gone
with some new, modern sensibility.
In either case, the picture loses sense;
we only see with skewed perception what we like:
a world that suits our purposes as is,
or one that our reforming might make right.
And while we fight and scrape to prove our case,
what happens to the time that is?
The Now, the only time that is, is lost
and gone before we live its span.
What is the point of living in denial?
The world is what it is; each second’s span
is neither from the future or the past.
It slips away like water in your hand,
and your contention neither gives nor takes
a jot of weight to yesterday’s long gone
nor to tomorrow’s not yet been
if you neglect the presence of today.
24 JUL 2017
Do without doing,
make something from nothing;
revise on and conquer.
leave nothing untended;
let symmetry guide you
off-balance at times.
Do, or do not do,
remake while unmaking;
there is no old recipe
for what is baking.
Music and dancing,
bring drums for the solstice;
plug in the instruments,
join a new party.
Practice at something:
being and nothingness.
Wake in the morning;
the coffee is on.
for Alice Guffey Miller
26 JUN 2017