I
don’t know why I love you like I do, don’t know why,
and
the song goes on to explain the why if not the like I do
but
I won’t trifle with your emotions today, will not lead
you
on as a forest - facing fire - will mislead the brush beneath the trees,
the
grass amidst the brush, telling the brush, the grass, you are safe
here, the dew will protect you, when any fool
with eyes can see
that
it’s the trees that the forest is really looking out for.
Brush
comes, grass goes, and everything is not permanent
but
everything that is not permanent is not necessarily in abeyance
to
its transience, to the love of its own transcendence.
Like
my love for you, I don’t love you like I do,
your
presence becoming an absence in my path, when I count the footfalls
it
takes a lifetime to climb, the road littered with oncoming trucks
that
approach their corners with the recklessness of the coyote
approaching
the road runner, the cliffs the walls the falls no
matter
the rocks, and be damned the obstacles in the path on the road
or
any such smack about killing the Buddha if you see him. Trucks
don’t
kill the Buddha, they are always already bodhisattvas,
as
enlightened as they are ever going to be in their grinding, dieseled roar
down
the path – your path!! – towards an unaccounted-for floor
that
isn’t a dune prambling slowly into the wind, against the picturesque of that,
that
isn’t the seep of dew in the morning moving from the grass blade to the earth
in
an inexorable descent but is instead a suddenness that takes the breath,
simultaneously
inhaling and exhaling it so that seemingly no action is allowed,
no
utterance is allowed, language becomes dormant in the ascent of simile.
No
in. No out. Just void. To quote:
Of
all the laws
that
bind us to the past
the
names of things are
stubbornest
Why
you try to know everything when it is so few
things
we really need to know. Names is
all you are trying
to
escape. Void. Seep. Path. Wonder. Lifetime. Presence.
Brush. Blade. Breath.
Wander. Loveline. Absence.
You
will only ever go as far as your language will take you.
So
it goes.
M---
© 2012 – Mark A. Douglas
No comments:
Post a Comment