Aug 29 2010
When first I came here
I was like you.
In search of something
real and warm.
Something to hold and shield me from
the terrifying cold that is this life.
Then I grew up, and
Seeing with newly opened eyes
I knew, embraced and owned
the reality that is this place.
There is no cold.
Only life’s beginning and life’s end.
That brief, hot and energetic moment that we spend
Suspended between infinity before and infinity after,
has no meaning. Has no point and,
most of all, has no end.
Then, if love should come
Is that not a special gift?
Is that not a plus in a universe of nothing?
Is that not a thing upon which we,
The mortal shards of this vasty universe
should hold, and grasp, and take unto ourselves as if for us
they were real?
For me, this fleshy shred,
The thought of love is real.
This shade that seems so firm
This momentary madness of a universe
within which all possibilities come true
Has delivered unto me
That, which, were I truly to exist
would seem like love.
I ask, and seek no more.
To have wrested from this cold and desolate space
the warmth that seems like love
In a mind that thinks to know it
It is enough.
I have been.
I have known.
I was here,
and now must go.
From one who has been
to one who may be,
Be sure to love.
For in that madness lies
the only true mark that errant thoughts like us
may make up this endless space.
From one before,
to one who comes after…
Leave a Reply
You must be logged in to post a comment.