what happens when enlightenment is no longer enough?
reapers like to sing “I don’t know” below my bed.
death is easy,
dying, a looped crucible.
I thought I would find you in the middle,
somewhere between two extremes,
but you’re outside of them entirely,
And angels like to sing “I don’t know” above my head.
are they inside you,
always awaiting the sound of your voice?
And God loves to whisper “I don’t know” when I tremble.
oh, how these worlds endlessly arise and fall within us,
animating us through our transparent willingness
and acts of rebellious surrender…
what abides when oceans of experience
flow through us and loosen our grip on a divine perch?
I don’t know.
and yet, when a spark arcs between our eyes,
a knowing erupts within me
and i want to scream
and touch your face,
fall into silence with you,
where love spans without end
and worry and longing have been erased…