THE PROCESS

 

Everything passes

Everything

Therefore

Accordingly

Nothing is real

For

If a thing

Anything

Is not real

At any given moment

Within our eternity

It is unreal

Not real

Always

And forever

It is only

A movable feast

A marvelous mirage

The appearance of realness

Of reality

Is simply

That white cumulus cloud

Passing overhead

Pretty

Is it not?

Hey!

What happened to that cloud?

It is no more

It in fact

Never was

There is

There was

Only the process

Only

The non-reality

Reality of the existentialist mind

“Dances With Wolves”

They will hunt for me.”

Ten Bears

“I think you are wrong,

The white man the soldiers are looking for no longer exists.”

Only the process

Of passing

From here to there

Forever

Constantly moving towards

Being

Being something else

Being nothing

What about love?

 

My, my, my…

Perhaps the one and only exception

To our condition

To our lack of being

Oh yes…

I know

I mentioned the process

Of moving,

From here to there

Moving towards

Being

Being something else

But my friend,

It seems

The process of moving

The process of passing

Never ends

It seems

We never arrive

We are forever

Simply processing

Simply passing

But, you mention love

The greatest

The most misunderstood

Maybe the only

Thing real

In the non-reality of our existence

But,

As you try to wrap your arms around it

As you try to corral it…

As you try to negotiate

“I will love you

If you will love me.”

My, my my…

The greatest

The most misunderstood

Maybe the only,

Thing that is real

But, it stands alone

It lives alone

Thriving

Nourishing

Anything and everything that will let it in

But is not ours

To hold

To corral

To negotiate…

It seems

It does not really need us

 

At all

It seems

It is here for us

But, stands alone