I forget.
I remember and forget
and remember again.
One day,
When all the mystique of idiocy
Has rubbed off life
Like gold lacquer from oak,
I’ll forget so wholeheartedly
(Or remember so completely)
That I will forget to not dance
And remember my home
Beyond memory and forgetting
- the place where you are waiting
With your hands of milk and stars.
I know you are waiting…
Be very clear about this,
If about nothing else:
These things in boxes and bags
And polythene wraps…
They are not your life
And they never were.
Somehow,
There arose in you
A confusion;
You mis-placed the world
In these objects of desire
Of memory and
Obligation.
But
It is possible to walk away;
It is difficult, but possible.
It is discouraged, but it is possible.
It is…
Now is the time of bright colours,
Time to make raiment of the cloth of dreams;
Cast off your heavy worldly dress
And make your clothes ecstatic suits
For dancing and flying.
The days of the great reptiles
Are numbered and few;
Now is the time of the rainbow serpent.
The skydancers are here
And invite your attention.
Look for the heroes and heroines:
They are waiting everywhere,
To…
I don’t know.
One day to the next, like a weathervane.
Today, I think I’m a Zen renunciate.
Tomorrow, I’ll be a poet again
Mad with life and singing in the fields.
The day after that?
I don’t know.
Yesterday, deepening into memory,
Swimming in the Goddess water.
Today, spiralling out in bright colours,
An explosion of Self everywhere.
Who is in there?
Who is in there?
What is…