Practicing Now

You caught me, didn't you?
Indulging in a vacuous reality
I'll never understand, nor truly know
for it is merely locus of a bold phenomenon 
we call synaptic in a brain,
but for the mystery of sense,
we cannot prove is there.

But it works, doesn't it?
Any old reality will do;
my preference is the moment
that cannot be seen 
and to adapt the old cliche
in new dress, come what may, 
sight unseen with some reluctance
rules both night and day.

Be warned, for it is I
who squeezes joy from
such things nihilistic,
I forever spewing sequiters
that non or otherwise defile
the ears of anyone in quest
of truth.

A toast, my friends, to nothingness!
Content be damned, or sanctified;
there is the challenge of discovery--
of worlds we dare not dream.
and there is noone to adjudicate
the what, or when,  or why of it.
Bon chance!  For there is hope,
if not of victory,
then an unfinished now.
      ~
Copyright © | Year Posted 2016

Poem

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