music felt and played
never leaves the universe
but rings forever.
Self parody #1 (metaphysics)
The heart of the matter
is that truth is
not what coincides
with what we want
or otherwise
nor is taken from a chart
or map that exchanges
itineraries or fares
for destinations
or seats us for an experience
without having our tickets taken
for its borders unsought
untried, will still the traveler
shape and ply, and mark
with stops along the way
regardless if we sleep or wake
So we are wearied, stamped
travel stained
with all we loose
all we gain, and whether
it is understood it moves us ever
where it would. tho longing never
makes it clear, the stop we seek
around the curve, it is the where
that is the when of knowing
it if we are there.
Neither created nor destroyed
it binds us even as we rearrange
the forms we raise against its
guides that remain fixed
tho we are changed