SHOULD I SPEAK OF THINGS BACKWARDS
Should I speak of things backwards
as if the only things I could know and say
were always behind me
like starlight in my wake
or turn and look out into the abysmal darkness
not knowing what road to take
if the carpet will fly
if the theme I’m following
like my own shadow through time
will ever drop the veil from her face like Isis
and look into mine?
Stars evaporate in their own intensity like gods.
The spirit of the universe
is a shapeshifter
that never wears the same thing twice.
Every day shows up with a new face.
Every night’s a new lover in my place.
And the plot gets thicker and quicker
as the past asks the future
as if it read a lot of history
how things turned out
and the future asks the past
as if it were the watershed of the mystery
who came first and who came last
to the mindstream they both drink from.
Learning wisdom is learning space.
And it’s a big place.