there he is

there he is
my friend who is grey now

he does not look too old and

i am reminded i am that old and older too

i have not seen him in 15 years

he still has the same look in his eyes

people laugh when he comes in the door 

the kind of guy who always has interesting things to tell

*

life seems to go slowly

then at the same time it speeds

going so rapidly how can anyone keep up

in the end we don't .. it is impossible 

but no need to ask for pardon

strive for good form or the ability to reason

or dedicate yourself to one or a dozen causes

convincing or compelling keen spiritual development

you could wear robes

or join a concern where the devotes 

and you all appear clothed like peacocks

mantras are fashionable and blending well being

.

.

.

the best thing i can hope for

is to get untangled from my ideas 

all like nets for catching people places things

but now i see i am hopelessly caught and the solution

is to sever them with sharp intention

the alternative is get more tangled 

and slowly twirling drown

in broad daylight at the office or in the kitchen

>

and what more? i could try for

stronger amens and genuine affection

sweeping away an ego that balks but can see plainly

a breathless horizon beyond all thinking and calculation

not too shabby a thing 

where now is now is now is now and

always now and never was anything else but

this beautiful endless place where seasons fly on wings

i could even let my old friend back in 

when i tell him everything i thought here

he'll just smile