May 2018
We are the poets of your narrative
Come to take you again on your necessary journey
Through a landscape of overbearing and darkness
Steep rocky pathways and failing bridges where
there may be a glimmer of light we shine, like a torch lit by fear
Through the fallacious delusions and salacious contusions
you will follow us inevitably, because
You have not yet understood that you can stay
seated, under the tree of wisdom you planted aeons ago
before we came and saw you, looking for all the world
like you needed a story much bigger than
That simplistic dream you had
of your own life.
But what could we say, other than Yes, we will lend you all our hours and abundance of adjectives and bandages.
You seemed so lonely to us—the poets of your narrative—
sitting there, with just your small verb to be.
Come to take you again on your necessary journey
Through a landscape of overbearing and darkness
Steep rocky pathways and failing bridges where
there may be a glimmer of light we shine, like a torch lit by fear
Through the fallacious delusions and salacious contusions
you will follow us inevitably, because
You have not yet understood that you can stay
seated, under the tree of wisdom you planted aeons ago
before we came and saw you, looking for all the world
like you needed a story much bigger than
That simplistic dream you had
of your own life.
But what could we say, other than Yes, we will lend you all our hours and abundance of adjectives and bandages.
You seemed so lonely to us—the poets of your narrative—
sitting there, with just your small verb to be.
Contemplating all the noise, and wanting to return to something less like Doing and more like Being, I think of all those endless stories we tell ourselves. Why did they ever start, how did we let them get so far from our true nature?
