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