to you
it’s the world,
your world,
a kind of
definition
but one day
you will know
it cannot
define you
or even love
blog
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to you
it’s the world,
your world,
a kind of
definition
but one day
you will know
it cannot
define you
or even love
perhaps
when words
do not come
one
should keep silent.
is that not
its will?
if we think
only God forgives
then we are weaker
than we believe
forgiveness is
a matter of choice
not a given
just because
we are mortal
if we are willing
to forgive then
we have taken
the first step
to forgiveness
being willing
to some action
is something
we can do
that in itself is proof
we have the capacity
for forgiveness
some-thing
beautiful is
captured then
(re)arranged on
sensitive surface
becoming
an-other object
not a ‘you’ or ‘it’ but
an image and schema
without
time
place
essence
Recitations
Drowned out
By summer heat,
Rushing crowd.
Go where
The wind blows
Far into the interior
Of the mind
Of your haiku
Then beyond
Its borders
Through towns
Pass common folks
Over seas
And in love
With your
Companion
Only to return
To reality
That is the Edo.
Death, of course
Is the sure bet
But you are either
The horse
Or the punter, and
Never both at once.
