i have no gurus
i have passions
i have no idols
i have desires
i have no icons
i have nothing
your life wants to touch mine, it does.
it did, it did before you knew it
we are one, we were always so.
before, after and during birth
before, after and during death
your life touches mine...
you reach out, i turn away.
i can not
i hesitate...
i want out...
not another one,
not seduction again.
semiotic remains,
dead buddhas,
agonized memories.
guilt is pretense.
i can not, i shall.
may you have the boldness of resolve,
the adventure of roses,
the wildness of the gentle waters,
the insatiability of the unborn,
the tenacity of the dead,
all of that and then nothing more,
then again,
the path is always yours.
you are alone.
you are alone in the crowd,
you are alone in the house,
you are alone in your life,
you are alone.
you are alone in your family.
alone and connected.
what difference would it make?
here, there, anywhere.
now. just now.
impersonal it is.
embrace.
