Flocks of word-birds fly through the sky
trying endlessly to configure themselves as indicators
pointing to the sky and away from themselves.
They whirl and swirl in beguiling patterns.
But, finally, exhausted they retire to land and rest.
And there's the sky.
gallagher
Christchurch
16Jul18
— Copyright 1965-2018 by Dennis Gallagher —
I like that sometimes I walk around
with an empty and aware mind.
I don’t comment on it to myself and break the silence – I just know it;
as if another color has come into my experience.
And I like what I’ve come to call Authenticity;
when I’m using words.
It’s like another color in my awareness.
As if everything coming to me is painting the back wall of
the empty room that I am and I am inseparably in it.
Words don’t begin to touch this.
gallagher
30May2017
Singapore
— Copyright 1965-2019 by Dennis Gallagher —
There is what it is. Just one.
And those who choose to stay near it, rest near what it is.
And those who wander away can only come to more of what is not.
And, because it is what is not, it is more and more fraught with less than what it is.
What it is is not wonderful – it just is what it is – with all of its mortality, aging, meaninglessness and death.
Things cannot get better than what it is. Beyond what it is lies only dreams, illusions, hopes and fears.