Whittled Down to a Vapor

[Guest guest]

There are no signposts here, no consolations.I wander, whittled down

to a vapor of what I thought I was, a dropin the silence of

thisenormity.Life taps the dirt along this deserted path,

markingfootsteps that came from nowhere,lead to

nowhere/anywhere.Memories, vague yearnings, pieces of dreams –all

skitter restlessly across the surface of my pooling imagination,

yetfind no resting-place.Here, there is only the starkness of

mystery's hibernation, incubating this shellof chimerical elements

congealingin and out of time's lifestream.I am water, washing

througha water world, unborn, undying –twisting through the maritime

depths of itself, flowing through grand canyons of heart-stopping

vision, or pooling in stagnant backwaters ofabandoned

desire.Unaccountable breath –inhaled, exhaled, inhaled, exhaled --and

all the while this beating, blood-pumpingvessel of ordinary,

irreducible life vibratesto an inaudible music, the music of precise

embodiment, distilledimmensity.How could I have ever dreamedthere was

anything more thanthis utter simplicity?This water istransparency

itself –tidal child of oceanic mother,never other than herself, at

play in cloud,dewdrop, brook, snowslush, river, lake, leaf,limb,

root, dark earth, rainbow heaven, bird, beast,beauty, worm, world

within world within elusive world.Always now.Now.Over the waterfall,

I burst into billions of individual drops of itself in deafening

roar,only to dissolve again into the flow of my eternal unity,

flowingwater of life, nourishingall forms of myself,my own

form.Contained within me are all water worlds,as I within them,

rippling through this vastness,this dark and moonless night, and

still I trickle on,my cane tapping out a signature on water,

waterechoing back the loneliness of that whichcan never know itself,

but only be itself.Even this loneliness isat last submerged in the

welcomingembrace of itself, watery limbs reaching out to catch the

gentle rain of this liquid sky's tears,the tears which are the

heart's voice of thissilence I wander through tonight.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Love,

 

Mazie

[Guest guest]

, "Mazie Lane" <sraddha54@h...>

wrote:

>

 

 

A child offered me a flower,

and a smile.

I took the flower and couldn't help -

but return the smile.

 

I cried,

the flower died.

 

BEAUTY LIVES

 

Love and Gratitude,

James