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.
I awake in the morning from dreams;
with the sound of rain
slowly filling the space
around me.
And my awareness arises,
quietly regarding the mysteries
before
my thoughts begin.
This mind, with all of its small interests,
just wants to understand enough
to survive, procreate and
to spite the ever creeping
entropic darkness.
We are both the lightness of being
and the darkness of conclusions drawn.
And all the while
the animal, within us,
still growls.
And we so automatically form
those beliefs
that prevent us from seeing
the naked truth
that lies all around us, endlessly.
And that naked truth
is utterly indifferent
as to whether we see it
or not.
The rain murmurs outside
and I turn and burrow deeper
into the covers of a bed
in a house where I am loved.
I am, in this one moment then, mind.
And in the next, just simple presence.
And I am all of this …
while the rain
murmurs and sings
and the mysteries enfold me.
gallagher
29Dec2023
Christchurch
When we were young,
the sun seeds in the eyes
of our children,
shown in our eyes.
And with every conversation
and with each movement
with a potential partner
entire futures arose and retreated
in and out
of the world of possibilities.
We were sheer potential,
then,
at just the beginning
of a long life.
And now,
that the years have passed,
those potentials have manifested.
And we are the products of all
the decisions we made.
And it all turns in a circle.
And regardless
of where you are in that circle,
you can only know
what lies behind you.
gallagher
22Jan2024
Christchurch