The World Outside
Since my stroke, I deal with a shrunken world.
Surprisingly, a shrunken desire to visit,
also has emerged; I'd buy a coffin
to hold in readiness, but I'll be cremated
and a cardboard box is all I need, I'm told,
for that. Here's my dollar bill.
Were I from India, a barge could take me
to the current in the Ganges
where fire upon the water sanctifies
the journey to transmogrify a western soul,
afixing it forever to the earth.
Within the bubble of my consciousness,
however, my universe embraces endless joy,
and it is yours, as well.
To quantify reality in any way
succombs to madness.
Somewhere, someone has it figured out.
The wind is at his back;
he knows impassively
that there is singing in the hills,
and always there are problems to give life
to every celebration planned, and right behind
someone to love and demonstrate
compassion.
Someone.
Someone to teach us to listen.
Someone...
Please, let there always be Someone
~
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