I am in awe of how many wondrous secrets (and not secrets) there are in the world.   big and wide and round.

there is so much to eat.   so much to see, to understand.   to appreciate.
I’m not big enough.   my life’s not big enough.   so I smile as much as possible.
last time I looked, really looked, you were all so beautiful.   not a lie.

          I can’t complain.   I won’t.
 
 
 
 
 
It occurs to me now at this elevation in life, toward the ending of my personal portion of life, how disconcerting it is, how this-me, this collective experience (saying simply “memory” is not big enough, full enough) will evaporate, will dissipate when this body ceases to live the way we think as living.   Seems no glamour in being past-tense.   Being unavoidable does not ameliorate.
 
 
 
 

       why pain, why joy.

 
 
 
the truth is just the truth.

the only reason truth seems elusive is
because we live so much with our lies.

we mistake, thinking truth is just one more lie.
 
 
the universe is just the universe.   existence too.

if we ask how do we cope, ask the universe.

the universe does not avert its eyes.

the universe does not go away.

the universe does not sleep.

the universe just is.   is is.

why pain why joy.   because.
 
 
 
 
no matter what I say, it will not feel like enough.   what about you.

me, I read too slow.   I think too slow.   old tectonic faults.

       I walk slow (just about right I think).
 
 
 
 
one truth is this.   (reprise)

 
 
 

the Dalai Lama told me so.