I get bigger
as my love gets big
I get quicker
as my love get quick
I get richer
as my love gets rich
I get hungry
I get money
I get off
and then a plane crashes outside of Billings, Montana
and all of a sudden I don’t feel so big
I wonder what a person can say
to loss
We can theorize in the classroom,
rhapsodize eloquent on the page / stage,
but Good Lord
Death wipes away artifice
and leaves behind naked
Tears from ego expectation falling on the barren rock
of this, the energy flows
onward, outward, inward, forward
for some imagined function uniform
and the mystics become muckabouts in a flash show
and POOF
gone.
God-
it’s absurd