27 Jan 2011

bless one


i guess one does sound like that sometimes ~ when the fog clears, there's still the meds and amino acids intermingling - leaning on the rusty wall, chips of oxidized tin flaking down my shirt collar

there's been moments of bliss, a kind of joy that is natural and pure, so clear, like glacial streams, that doesn't smack of this or that, that doesn't need to be called this or that - so, there's that - there's things to be grateful for - there's the fact that i'm really doing it this time, doing the next right thing, and i could keep doing that

then there's this fact, that there are trials coming that are beyond my imagining right now, that will really test me, and my willingness, and my strength - cause i'm in the glow of fresh recovery – and on top of that, as lady luck would have it, infatuation with a girl, but maybe a cool infatuation, like a cool breeze, and maybe there's glades of love beyond the hills, hazy on the horizon, lovely things, that are always mirages aren’t they? or whatever that is, love and mirage and the baby carriage, and there's categories - maybe one doesn't have to say it, maybe me and her, we don't have to create roles, or even be aware of them, we could de-telescope to a pre-natal garden ~ when one is green, one is growing, when one is ripe, one starts rotting -~- and what of it? does that devalue the youth, or re-value its rare slice of the cycle?

i know i can ride out the storms, get through the moments that test me - there is only this moment? that never seems all that profound to me, it's not clicking - the felt presence of experience is over-rated by sages - except when i'm in that kind of tight embrace with her that i know i've never had with anyone else, there's glades of unsaved waves, and amazing things on the horizon, maybe the labyrinths could dissolve - maybe tonight’s irritability is a blessing, it certainly could be

and besides that, now i get to sleep - been working overtime on waking life, exceeded my quota, now i get to sleep and hopefully not sweat, it's not too late to trend in a desired direction, but that's up to the good and orderly, which has often been an insoluble problem for me, best not to get involved with that brand of trigonometry

1 comment:

chels said...

"when one is green, one is growing, when one is ripe, one starts rotting -~- and what of it? does that devalue the youth, or re-value its rare slice of the cycle?"

reminded me of some lines of poem i read recently by yehuda amichai:

"In autumn, he will die like a fig, / Shriveled, sweet, full of himself. / The leaves dry out on the ground, / And the naked branches point / To the place where there is time for everything."