shutting the book of fairy tales

how we create

how we create

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

our creation.


The desire to believe fizzles out.  Snap, crackle, pop

and the cereal is gone, the plot futile, the need for

answers extinguished.

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.


3 thoughts on “shutting the book of fairy tales

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