I am haunted by the truth ...
For years I sought this seeming ghost
of how to describe reality as both
spirit and matter ...
I read books, studied teachers,
I found my way to the
School of Life’s Mysteries, which surrounded
my individual biography, and
gave myself to what it taught ...
surrendered to the secrets
hidden in my own tale ...
following their lead
I still dreamed dreams,
of which some turned out
to be maps to the future,
not just fantasies
At the same time I am haunted by myself
who am I
what am I
why am I
how am I
when am I
where am I
the worms of dark feeling
devour the traces of my best self
and turn me into food for my “darker other”
Lucifer’s Pride haunts me too
Shouldn’t I save the world,
take home every homeless person
only eat what starving others eat?
Why should my life be good
and full of laughter and love
when so many other-Thous
The Father of Lies too
rides my soul, ...
can I distinguish his tangled roots from my own
Do I know the TRUTH!!!!
What is that?
Ancient Wisdom says:
we are the small world, which is
a duplicate analog of the great world
in us resides a version of the Good,
of Christ and the Holy Mother ...
my soul is a musical instrument which
I can learn to play, by deciding where to lean my
attention, and what to create with my intention
do I study worms and roots, light and darkness
seek fame, seek love, seek revenge
or ... do I
hide in forgetting, in insanity, in death
or in sleep ...
each night I do this, do I not ... sleep, die a bit,
forget and wander in the halls of madness where
impossible dreams seem all too real
then there is the stuff of my mind
ideas, concepts, generalized concepts and
mental pictures - all borne and driven on seas of
invisible feelings with the storms of fear and anger
and rage and terror ... sadness sorrow and hate ...
unless I dance and sing on my happy feet,
and smile and hug and play with puppies and
kittens, or get drunk with old friends, have an affair
with someone where I work ... plot to blow up anything
within reach of my raw passions against ...
to be human, is, as Walt Whitman said:
“I am multitudes”.
and to be haunted by all my possibilities
meanwhile living in the deranged house of
cards that is my biography,
my persona tale,
little of which I
control, some of which (or more) I would
change, unmake, do over ...
there are so many kinds of thoughts
so many shades of feeling
so many worms and roots
so many angels and demons
so many gods and causes and ...
sunny days, where nothing happens
and I can have a smoke or a drink and just
watch the clouds paint the sky ...
just as my dreams, desires, wants and needs
paint the life of my mind ...
He touches me you know, Christ touched me.
more than once ...
He sang of love and forgiveness and
healed me in those wounds I most needed healing
more important ... He sang that I was just fine as
I was ... there was no need to be better
or any kind of other -
I was loved just as I was.
and, truth to tell,
and be haunted with:
so are We all.