Listen child,
for I will tell you the ways of the One
who knows what you do and what you do not.
For truly you are alone within yourself,
save the divine whispers and the evil beckonings.

Life is not gray as we tell ourselves in comfort,
but it is the constant dichotomy of black and white--
sharp contrasts at war.
This war arose before you were born, before I,
before the first peoples.

You will face many challenges.
You will cry, scream, curse the Name
which gave you life so freely,
with such little to gain
and so much more to seek through
your surrender.

You do not come from me, my love.
I merely housed you, birthed you, fed you,
nurtured the spirit within.
Soon you will leave this place we call
safety.

You will stand on the precipice of the unknown
and outstretch your arms to where they naturally reach.
You will taste the splendid meats and drink from the lush fountains
of wine.

But my darling, my most beloved child,
do not fear the unknown:
it is all around you,
breathing through our skin.
Sing through your lips, through your smile, through your fingertips
the words I have taught you thus, the words you knew all along.

Love does not give what it does not freely take.
Know that life is transient, and all your joys and griefs
will crumble beneath your feet and dissipate and subtly as they came.

Feel of the wind in your hair.
Let the gusts whip you pants against your legs
and away again
until you sense the rhythm of the Universe.

Is it too late?
please dont make me bear - the bland walls whitened by the guise of death.
Is it too late?
the queasiness laughs lavishly - when will I die? If I continue to feed
Is it too late?
to Live or to die? I lie motionless in between
It it too late?
to choose magnificence glimpsed in hints behind my eyelids
to be the ancient winds gusting out of nothingness like Celtic fiddles, changing raging seas into misty green beckonings
Is it too late?

here I lie.  the deadening grasped me again.  I knew it would come.  I did my best to prepare. Was it enough?  Did I finish bridges to escape on the night?  Only time will tell, and what a devil it has become.

-


I think of you as the first draw
from a cigarette wish-well,
and the dizzy well being
of its so-so beckonings—

i became addicted,

remaining perilously close to your
edge with a potential for falling in
while reaching for another taste
as the cravings intensified.

But the euphoria diminished;

when i realized (finally) that you
were not my springwater, nor the
bucket of a dreamwell, nary even
the spool that held the rope—

you were merely a shimmer
of water under a bridge
that was too good
to be true.

Someday i will pause
over your delicious
flow once more,

to remember a taste
necessitating years
to drift downstream...


s jones
Dec 2020


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