i am fortunate enough to choose my own melodies
as sadness drifts like a river through the night’s journey onward
forget your identity and merge with the trees along the shoreline
who is the gatekeeper anyway
she is the one who decides what is appropriate
i wish to meet her face and see her eyes
for what a challenging occupation it must be
this infinite being presides over our frustrated creativity
i see women dreaming like symphonies
making serendipitous discoveries
individual recoveries from addiction to imprisonment
symbols surround our mountains
and draw us down from the ethers
into present day realities
i choose to face the fire of the architect
as stardust collects on your shelves and altars
you may stall as long as you wish
for procrastination can never touch this
who found infinity first
to brag about it would be laughable
i question our obsession with thoughts
why we validate some and consider others repulsive
can there be value in individual ideas
or only in vast conglomerations
perhaps we are bound to an infinite chain of misnomers
if all skandas are fundamentally empty
including form, feelings, perceptions, formations and consciousness
then earth, water, fire, air, and ether
are all manifesting maya equally
this life may indeed be a satire or a tragedy
with a sprinkle of ire or perhaps a little irony