Feb 2016
A formless remorse floods in…
I count backwards from hundred to one
and find
an unending procession of ants across my porch,
on some timeless mission,
this morning.
And yet,
I find myself
as spontaneously unpredictable
as a dynamite, lit lead pausing,
on the edge of spark contact—
dead…or sleeping.
A guttural sound from the backyard—
a cat, back to the wall,
bristling,
claws drawn out,
whiskers on fire,
tail sticking up,
like a deliberate finger,
wagging,
No, no, no, no!
I count backwards from hundred to one
and find
an unending procession of ants across my porch,
on some timeless mission,
this morning.
And yet,
I find myself
as spontaneously unpredictable
as a dynamite, lit lead pausing,
on the edge of spark contact—
dead…or sleeping.
A guttural sound from the backyard—
a cat, back to the wall,
bristling,
claws drawn out,
whiskers on fire,
tail sticking up,
like a deliberate finger,
wagging,
No, no, no, no!
Have you tried monitoring yourself very closely? Going intensely into what is happening to you, feeling each moment magnified? By and by you learn to detach yourself from the individual experiencing the thing. It becomes like watching a movie on the screen.
