The Will

The house needs cleaning

things today are strewn about

papers organized and unorganized on the long table

Here and there, there and here

The thinking often has a wandering of garbled

life experiences collected along the way

And in dreams  it has a layering like a watercolor wash

over what life has brought here and there

Once it was a measure of something essential

–how smooth and ordered these realities

appeared, were managed, shown to the world at large

As if such a point in time made me who I am

I bequeath all things inessential to the unfolding

of this life’s replete emanation to their essential returning

Where nothing is owed, owned, thought of, or held over

and not a stick or crumb or iota measured in time.

I have died to the life once lived as if there was

an achievement to rally, a fortitude to gain –each of these

offered as a replacement for Simply what I am as myself

What a beautiful death it is, this vibratory transfiguration

Here now this territory –without having any territorial

justifications   Opens out –without distance and no other

demarcations that once claimed any right   Singing its vastness

–not as performance or fulfillment  What a singing it is

And the house invites cleaning

things today dancing without order

some papers rest and others conversing on the long table

Life is here, there is life

I wait without the waiting

each moment a death and transmutation

That is what it can take at times when time is on the clock, the will

written, thusly forgotten –and life is, life is

San Cristobal, NM 19 January 2015

Thank you as always, Daniel, for your support and love!

Please add your comment, thoughts, or reflections. Would you like to? Thanks! --Janice

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