dusk is a daily reminder of death
may it be so sweet, death, as this moment, slightly darker, colder than the last,
may it be so sweet, death, as this moment, slightly darker, colder than the last,
colder than yesterday, yet golden on its edges, full of the scents of this world,
sounds of birds, rustling leaves and distant machines…
it is reassuring to think the moment comes when you are so tired in body
that death is welcomed, reassuring to a 37 year old newly terrified of his own mortality
and at this very moment, the Naperville Carillon sounds, the steel chimes of my father sounding in, gloriously rising and falling with the whim of the wind, black walnut
leaves merge with that of white oak, drying on the underside silver in the breeze, drying, dying preparing to fall at the season’s end.
may I be so fortunate to live long enough to tire in body to welcome this passing into heaven, rebirth or nothingness…
but at 37 with two beautiful sons, a wife with whom I’m falling back in love,
family close and a newly evolving world view (or at least a possible ease with living), death seems ultimate and profoundly violent, always too soon. too soon for the absolute agnostic who only recently revived his animist spirituality, became Buddhist and scarred his body with Celtic tattoo to forsake the Hebraic taboo of cleanliness, of preparedness for eternal salvation in lieu of truly living here and now, bartered earthly suffering in exchange for later reward there, not here. All this while questioning my manly ability to provide material wealth, forgetting the mundanity is the magic...
sounds of birds, rustling leaves and distant machines…
it is reassuring to think the moment comes when you are so tired in body
that death is welcomed, reassuring to a 37 year old newly terrified of his own mortality
and at this very moment, the Naperville Carillon sounds, the steel chimes of my father sounding in, gloriously rising and falling with the whim of the wind, black walnut
leaves merge with that of white oak, drying on the underside silver in the breeze, drying, dying preparing to fall at the season’s end.
may I be so fortunate to live long enough to tire in body to welcome this passing into heaven, rebirth or nothingness…
but at 37 with two beautiful sons, a wife with whom I’m falling back in love,
family close and a newly evolving world view (or at least a possible ease with living), death seems ultimate and profoundly violent, always too soon. too soon for the absolute agnostic who only recently revived his animist spirituality, became Buddhist and scarred his body with Celtic tattoo to forsake the Hebraic taboo of cleanliness, of preparedness for eternal salvation in lieu of truly living here and now, bartered earthly suffering in exchange for later reward there, not here. All this while questioning my manly ability to provide material wealth, forgetting the mundanity is the magic...
whether heaven or simple decomposition and decay, the beauty of this world in nature, in relationships, in occasional solitude, in words, in poetic philosophic interpretation of this accidental display, some solace some ease in embracing joy, finding joy, joy complex in its inclusion of all of life not escapist bliss, engagement of this world and all in it, the shrill flitting blue jay, the skittering chipmunk, my flesh and blood sons, my own elusive self, taxes and tollways, broken eggs, frivilous frustraions always about something else, to make peace with all things, all entities and sentient beings and non-beings through curious engagement, dialogue, dance and loving embrace. To engage the story of my life without becoming lost in it.
May I dance and embrace life fully to one day comfortably and confidently agree to leave it, knowing the whole while, ultimately I have no choice.
2 comments:
I like it! Bring back some Evolutionary Times classics!
Beautiful.
Want more.
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