My teacher, Basho said:
Begin again
Over and over again
Always a new beginning.
Fear not the flames
Be as the Phoenix”
My reply:
I am the last son
of the MacFilidh clan,
the son of the poet
gone up in flames.
۞ ۞ ۞
What was it I wanted?
to say, to do
now standing at the abyss
to see who, how or what I am?
To see the self
touch where the heart resides
And, when fear gathers
Will, the turning of the tide.
I sat down
Trying to apprehend the truth of my existence
I sat a lifetime and still the door was closed
Knock again.
Clever speech is gone
Standing naked to the wind
A fire grows in the belly
a hunger, and a thirst
in search of the bull
no glimpse of eternity?
Speak for no faiths
No ism, no cause, save one
The celebration, the sustenance
And the surrender of life
It is the last hope
To be thrown away
Till tears bitter, bittersweet
joy and sorrow abide
Then speak but one word
Love
Now forget this too
It is too much this peace
Too sublime, too clinging
Too late for tears, too soon
We are the dust.
۞ ۞ ۞