well maybe it isn't -
maybe it's all a random rolling thing
a coaster speeding up of feelings
sewn together but by chance
no serendipitous or make believe reality
exists because nothing is meant to be
and we are only left to scramble,
scattered all around still in our head,
we work and hope that we will
wake up knowing life's not nothing
more than finding nothing, knowing
we aren't but a stapled doll
draw to a cork board of banality
looking sideways
Today I have a car.
Yesterday I sat by the river at dusk.
Today I am in love.
Tomorrow is Burning Man.
Next week we'll be in rehearsals again
and everybody's happy when there's still room for growth.
Still is it all for hell?
Is it real or do we sell ourselves
to nothingness and ride this
passionate spiral of relationships,
realism, the adult plain staying away from play
when there is only no meaning
no reason for it at all to begin with?
Let's plot it from the present to reverse
It becomes a tree.
Moments now are like clean new twigs
sprouting from the stems of an earlier branch
This branch is glittering with memories
angled up and out from a thicker
and heartier arm split from three gnarled snakes,
all paths you tried to take
all rising up from one barky limb
heavy, curved, carved creating hymns of solitude
and sweetness, sing-song frivolous completeness
living in that freeful now, exploring love, failing, falling
picking up and packing on your layered bark
creating that totem of drying art
on your timeless trunk waiting for the kiln.
It is a tree we're growing
a life-giving tree
planted deep in old soil
a living thing
so fastly bound
no desert furies,
blizzards, rain
will shake these roots
from their earthen register
That's where the meaning lives
the meaning is now, and what's come before.
The past's alive, the future is what's dead
until we resurrect what once was in our head
see you after Burning Man kiddos :)
Mikie
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