I am asked to move on.
Independence she says.
Life goes on.
I go on.
I am not right, not wrong.
Haven't a place to seek.
Move on with the moment.
This moment is painful and sweet.
This is nothing.
Thank you for the words of clarity.
This is everything.
(and even my most ambiguous answer
is not a way to shrug off what you say)
I am as sincere as I can be now.
I am a hypocrite. You are one too. Thank you. I am sorry.
I am arrogant. So are you. I am sorry. It is just as well.
I am your son but also myself.
You are mother of more than one
and of so much more
and just yourself.
This I know
I see
I smell,
even if only for moments.
This is just as well.
Thank you.
Clarity is you at the most severe of snow storms.
Thank you for you as well act without knowing,
you move life without having a say.
Or you do have one and I am all fool.
And I underestimate the sensibility of others
but not for self-engrandurement.
In fact it has all been about self-realism,
or an attempt to just see without interpreting.
You are beautiful.
You too, brother and sister.
You are nothing as well.
Nothing that means so much
a nothing that fills the voids of all
You are All
All is you
and I am here as well
I am now your brother
your friend last time and again,
you mother,
I have been a leaf in your vestibule
and I love you
except I don't really remember Love.
The answer to all these questions is here
and I keep missing it,
like walking past the open window
time and again.
This is just as well.
You are just as well.
Great.
Magnificent oblivion.
(I remember when I first heard the word oblivion;
I though I was living Love and I was a fool still)
Thank you.
Thank you.
There aren't true words.
All this is no lie either.
But lost, all lost in the motive.
I am lost in the motive of my actions.
I will find the motiveless action
and perpetuate it as long as the breath keep visiting me.
I have no promises.
Words are not themselves.
I live,
that is,
Life lives me.
You are the window,
the door knob, the door.
You have been here
longer than I remember
to tell the truth.
If you think this is about you
(just as I continue to delude myself
into thinking so...)
you are mistaken.
And so be I.
This is just rain
all the rain.
If you don't understand,
Imagine your son, brother, father, friend!
Thank you.
This whole independence isn't where you tell me.
This comfort isn't where you show me.
And I know that doesn't mean
that it isn't so for you.
So be it.
All I have is a moment.
A moment with you.
I am glad we have it,
sad I make it hard,
happy you make it light,
absorbed in the length
that lasts no time.
All I [think I] have
is this moment,
and I'm glad I choose to care
sad I don't show more
appalled at the levity of gravity
wishing to tell you
what there is no words for.
All is a moment
and sometimes we think
we're making something
and we don't see
how much we think
and little we feel
[let ourselves feel]
How old must you think
I am
you are
we have been?
I do wonder if this will last forever
(and it does!)
All than I know is nothing,
it seems, in spite of my senses,
and all I mean is well.
It is time for me to cease to be what I think I am
I am done with this illusion,
I am done of all illusions
Illusions compel me to make this
and make it illusions as well.
Shigata ga nai.
