No words rise here.
Thoughts on spirituality rise but often
cancel themselves out.
What possibly can be said that hasn’t
been thought a thousand times?
What use are thoughts about non-duality
when they come wrapped in gay packages of duality?
In between desire for a carmelized pecan and
regret for ten extra pounds
we call ourselves “I” and suffer.
We’ve told ourselves fairy tales for years
and wasn’t it fun, wasn’t it darling, even when
the evil witch stuffed Hansel and Gretel in the oven
we still cheered, anything to hold the story together,
anything to keep us dangling between good and evil,
loving and hating the mythical creatures of
The desire to believe fizzles out. Snap, crackle, pop
and the cereal is gone, the plot futile, the need for
The only light which shines illuminates the fairy tale book.
The only light which shines softens your eyes.
The only light which shines doesn’t know
where to go next.
And that, surprisingly, is enough
even when it’s not.