ode to self
Monday, July 28th, 2008
kissing the lips of the beloved
my own lips

kissing the lips of the beloved
my own lips
There are two ways of being:
Which do you choose?

Why would I want it to stop
and miss the lessons it brings?

Coming back to life
having never died
it is the strangest thing.
It is all of course a lie
yet a complete delight
Even when it does not appear to be so.
It really is the strangest thing.

She is the priestess of a god that doesn’t exist.
I once loved her, like in the cartoons,
my jaw to the floor, red, silky toys reflected on the memory of those vast green eyes.
With the power to burn or to heal,
what she does with that prowess is not for me to grasp.
All I know is that I make myself vulnerable and notice that nothing burns,
nothing remains.

What thoughts would not be welcome here?
There is no shortcut to honesty
Honesty is the shortcut.

Live without resistance
-then notice what happens.

The highest level is to be level with everyone.

Coming home
is entirely worth it
even if it takes “forever”