Thursday, January 7, 2021

poem

Sentry


For years I stood guard over myself
Like a taciturn Roman sentry.
You had to know the watchword to get past
And once in, you had to swear an oath of silence
Before I’d ever consider letting you out.

But the passage of time kindles doubt.
This armor and weaponry is heavy.
No one ever comes to give me relief.
My shoulders are starting to slump
And my legs are slabs of numb.

I don’t even remember what’s inside
Anymore.  I’ve forgotten what it is
I was supposed to be protecting. 
 
As the trees aren’t there to guard the forest
Nor the forest there to shelter the tree,
I am not here to watch over myself
Anymore. For nothing was there
From the very beginning
Nor is there nothing more to come.

Nature abhors a vacuum.
But everything rushing in
Will soon go rushing out.
Something new will fill the space
Of old things swiftly displaced.

Nothing is stable, all is in flux.
Everything is coming
And then it must go.
You let the things come
And you let the things go.
Sometimes it is empty
And sometimes it overflows.

The thing you've been guarding is already gone
Only to return when you stop paying attention.
It's the nullity that gets crowded out
When there isn't an inch to spare.
It's the enormous nothing that won't fit
Even when your house is stripped bare.

This is the cosmological constant,
The flow that fills an empty heart
That's always been full
In order to be empty.
        This is the thing called love

1/5/21

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