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Nothing Personal

“If you want to make God laugh, tell him about your plans.”
Woody Allen

Nothing Personal
It takes time to reconcile it, to admit that this aging, dying, fading into non-entity,
until, finally, “I” am gone, is not a kind of story in a book, or a curious fact about someone else;
that it is a birthright; a gift I can’t decline, no matter how politely

Even when the taste of it has grown on the back of my tongue to flavor every bite;
even then, it still takes time to accept this irony, this joke, that loss and irrelevance,
the loss of all I’ve known, the irrelevance of all I’ve learned; have always been the truth. 

Odysseus slaughtering the suitors in futile rage against his fate
Job groveling in his rags, bartering piety for shreds of hope
Siddhartha convinced he could be in it but not of it

I finally understand such deeds, not as weakness or surrender,
but as stream-scoured boulders we clutch in desperation,
while the torrent pulls and drags us, irresistibly to the sea.


5 Responses

  1. I am surrounded by it these days with great emphasis.

  2. Beautiful.

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