SamadhiMuse

Lives, spent like leaves ripped from the trees.

I stop, and look into this vision, and I am impaled upon it.

This world; so vastly beyond my ability to understand.

We cry and we love and we cherish our children
and we are swept by the passions of this moment;
which become so irrelevant on the next turn.

And still the leaves spill from the trees
and the history books are full of how little
all the things we cared about mattered.

gallagher
19Nov21
Christchurch

-after reading Souief’s, “The Map of Love”

Here, where the light settles in the evening
and our thoughts come to rest,
here is the only place of peace;
except through the door into death.

For we still are, we still remain,
even if we cease our efforts at being.

And, if we are fortunate enough to
not have action and reaction forced upon us.

And, if we are smart enough
to let them go of our own free-will.

And, if we are wise enough
to welcome the next moment like a lover
and to put the past and the future away
in favor of this wordless revelation
of the only truth.

Then we can find rest.

Gallagher
19Nov 21
Christchurch