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HOW FLEETING ARE WE





Yes, O Bodhidarma, yes O Gautama Buddha; evertthing in

This fleeting world seems to need us and everything seems

To speak to us.  Us, the most fleeting of us all. We are fleeting.



But the pain, that is not fleeting; that lives with us in our speechless

Hearts.  All of our relations and what we carry over into the most

Interminable of lives that we as cells in humanity must endure forever.



What we carry over, the pain, the long experience of love into that

Other relation; what we carry over.  Not the power to see; not the

Intrinsic ability to see but the burnt flavor of not knowing love.



The pain then, above all the sadness, is what we as a species must

Endure.  Most of this is unsayable but only because it is superceded

By unsayable acts; inner workings outgrow seeking new containments.



We cannot impress those upon whom the inexpressible has already

Occurred; however, there is the knowledge that the first borne of

These identities must bear the imprint of all of those who has gone before.



Look at me, I am still alive; neither my birth from the womb nor my

Future grows less.  I am the summation of all that I decreed in the

Beginning of my overabundant being. It all wells up from my heart.