How do you just
let it all go,
open your mind
like you might
open your hand
to a lover?
How do you let go
of every breath
as if it were
your last? Do you
struggle to keep it
in til you turn blue?
Apoplectic?
Or do you give in
to the inevitable death?
What are you
holding on to?
Dying is not
so different,
you simply let go.
You wish you could
let go when you
make love, when you
listen to Beethoven,
when you look at
Matisse or Kandinsky
but it's so hard
when the incessant wars
of thought splash
over you, the words,
the clenched need
to control something,
the anxious synapse
twitch...
Opening yourself
means to live in
that dying present, aware
but not aware,
consciousness devoid
of judgment,
hopelessness
in the fabric
of all moments,
raveling and
unraveling...
1 comment:
incessant wars
of thought splash
over you...
the clenched need
to control something
yowser! (i think)
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