Life is an epic,
based on a koan—
we were forced to show up,
we couldn’t go home.
Life is absurd
as the rock rolls back down,
doomed to repeat,
heels dug in the ground.
Let go of the fidelity
that says lose yourself.
No other love can nourish,
you have all the wealth.
Admit
life is absurd, but all is well.
Only then are you able
to break the spell
of consciousness, and return
to the calm ebb and flow,
a soft tide under a half moon—
where we were long ago.
I watch my rock
roll back down the hill.
I threw the seeds.
I tried the pills.
There is nothing more worthy,
there is no other way.
A long life is no different
than life lived in a day
Sep 2, 2025
Sep 2, 2025 at 3:54 PM UTC
Life is an epic,
based on a koan—
we were forced to show up,
we couldn’t go home.
Life is absurd
as the rock rolls back down,
doomed to repeat,
heels dug in the ground.
Let go of the fidelity
that says lose yourself.
No other love can nourish,
you have all the wealth.
Admit
life is absurd, but all is well.
Only then are you able
to break the spell
of consciousness, and return
to the calm ebb and flow,
a soft tide under a half moon—
where we were long ago.
I watch my rock
roll back down the hill.
I threw the seeds.
I tried the pills.
There is nothing more worthy,
there is no other way.
A long life is no different
than life lived in a day
September 2025, poem