in the grand drift of evolution
human beings: Special only to ourselves.
lineages come, lineages go.
still, leaving the room,
I turn off the lights
impermanence
that all things are empty
doesn’t mean that any thing
is other than it is
a thing is what it is
by virtue of how
we interact with it
drink up!
while everything is evanescent, gold and glory pass more, much more, quickly than wisdom
Happy emotions come and go, so do unhappy ones. These are, in themselves, not signs of suffering, potential or actual. They are signs of living.
weeds in the garden flourish
unconcerned
their days are numbered
what good fortune:
stopping,
the smell of roses
true enough: we cannot be happy in the future,
we can only be happy now, in the present
the same is true for unhappy
go figure
when does the past become the present and the present, the future?
mortality appears
when the obituaries
could be yours
the denial of aging is the denial of death
like autumn leaves I am dying,
much more slowly,
no less certainly
we can accept our pain without liking it even though the pain remains until it, as all things, passes
wind-flashed hints of red
from the Chinese pistache –
first notes of fall
only a while
do our lives last,
the ant on the counter . . .
and me
there is nothing certain in this life but the leaving of it
waking up stomach pains
cancel the day’s plans,
now! just be sick
fortunate to recognize when your time has come,
more fortunate to recognize when it has gone
it’s true!
I don’t wish I’d spent
more time at the office
leaf after leaf floats,
like moments of our living,
until the last one touches ground
everything is impermanent, even this wish that it weren’t
at any moment
gone (perhaps)
splat like a fly
even the Dalai Lama gets the blues;
he just doesn’t have them for long
reading the obituaries,
I wonder,
what will kill me?
an eye blinks 20 times,
20 years pass by