birthing and dying simultaneous actions

twilight and break of day cannot be disjoined

music and silence virtually one and the same

∞

so why do we carry such pretense as

playing as if there is only life creative

without life dismembering itself too

∞

our bags are overfilling as we carry

the carcass of all that has already

departed  carrying on the pattern

∞

of What Was tripping over What Is

forging some remnant nonexistent now

into something we pay homage over and over

∞

memorializing as a preoccupation takes over

while the beautiful concerto of life / death

carries on all around us in every way and thing

∞

listening now to the music and the silence

welcoming birthing and dying simultaneously

such moves in us breath in breath out

∞

to RUH and the crystals of consciousness, too