ATTAINMENT
Do you see the everyday in what I
do? My faint cynosure keeps a status
of its own - even when I leave my
land. Doors and castle fronts, erected
where I am not, keep all the carnage at
bay. And, though the fields are littered,
I step lightly between bodies and limbs.
That alone is one attainment, reached.
My ribs are parched - I look like a
starving cur put out to die - yet, of no
moment at all, I know that I shall live.
My arms are your defenses.
-
Before I was an ending, first I was a
beginning - incursion, inception,
initiation, and all the rest. The small
pop pops and these frazzled nerves start
jumping. How long was it, I question,
before human flinched at sound and fire?
Dead bodies still litter the field,
so then, no matter.
-
And back now, to the start : what is it
we've attained here anyhow? The harbor
water surges onto a filthy shore - old
freight and lumber, cast-off things. We
walk about, judging to comment on every
little thing about others not ourselves.
We place the monad we are in a better,
higher, place. Attainment.
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