Art by Khalil Gibran at kennotes.blogspot.com
“Yesterday is but today’s memory, & tomorrow is
today’s dream.”--Khalil Gibran.
As we age, we lose some of the tenacious grasp we used to have
on each Day--embracing, gulping with gusto each moment we
inhabited. The New Agers preach carpe diem, & although I can dig
that premise/postulate--at times I find it difficult to separate hedonism
from the sheer enjoyment of my own madness.
My mortal tower of lego-decades teeters precariously, as its edges
erode & crumble. I feel like a strong wind could topple it, bringing
my short life crashing into the red dust of Now--leaving it to others
to remember it/me as I am tasked to recognize Home, that broad
horizon beyond the veil, where time has no meaning & where
tomorrow only has a shadow dominion; where infinity is touchable,
wearable & familiar.
It is comforting to be allowed some memory of Bardo, where after the
past-life review, if I decide to return to this emotional plane for another
go-round, then I can buckle down & construct a new plan for a new
life, set personal parameters, assign roles, tally the karma served
against the karma still owed--& begin in earnest to chose a region,
parents, race, social status, eye color, probable afflictions & necessary
pitfalls & stumbling blocks--understanding full well that my latest
lesson plan will be less than iron-clad once I have re-entered the
breach & launched the next reincarnation.
Death whispers to me:
dare to be you--just carpepunctum; with no regrets.
Posted over on dVerse Poets Pub "Haibun Monday"