spiritual language poetry & writings

notes toward a cosmic folklore – VII

 

 

Let’s face it—you’re alive! he heard, the voice coming out of the

world’s limpid mouth. How could he fight back against the

obvious that held him spellbound and curious, when the life he

was living seemed to be toying with his desires? But any other

life would betray the principle the universe is rife with—that of

the consequences of plunging headlong into the weight of the

past, that drags its victims slowly through the field of memory;

or toward the future, that lifts one above gravity to a summit

dark and windblown, to where the old go, having left behind

the searing, suicidal gift they would give anything to honor

again, the one in whose service he’s only just begun—

 

sway, and bend, you heard, leave a room like a bird chirping, and

whenever you can, let the violence you swerve around hold your

place—forever. Then it was time to reverse the drift of ‘more to

come,’ when you heard this—you, for the duration, are america

(are as anyone living on its beloved shores), are the one this is

being spoken through—this letter, this song, this belonging

sense, that’s to be prolonged over many lifetimes including

your own, the one you’ve paid for already, the one you’ll have

sung ‘bareminded,’ daily, for the living & the dying the rest of

your blessed life, so as to experience all directly, so as to

experience this rare reminding—how for some, the call never

comes.

 

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