You – did you know me when
I fell into the ageless well within?
And you – did you watch me while
I lingered before the flame
Of my Beloved’s smile?
Perhaps you – you saw me dance.
Did you taste the kiss of who
I touched in trance?
Maybe you – in your eyes I recall
A fleeting light:
A moon between clouds
On a stillborn night.
Thomas undertook a radical revision of his life.
His life he felt to be a fiction unread by most men.
By ‘most men’ he reckoned anyone unacquainted with strife.
With strife at his roots, is there anyone who could not understand,
Not understand more than a superficial gloss or first glance?
“First glances won’t tell a thing about me”, he declared.
He declared to himself a radical revision the only chance,
The only chance to be read where the level of fact was bared.
Was bared and naked of fictions the place where he’d see?
He’d see if the answer was to be found at the roots.
The roots were where no words could capture such truth.
Such truth was not the various versions of him it suits…
“It ‘suits’ of others, yes!” he said, “but not of me.
Of me they know so little. Deep at my core is pain.
Is pain and strife the ‘fact’ of my deep enquiry?
Deep enquiry then is at least a form of vision I gain.”
I gainsay you’ll guess the insight that occurred to Thomas.
To Thomas was given a gift when indeed he saw again.
A gain begotten when the light of awareness is on us.
On us the onus to clear the path of our life of the slain.
The slain are the dead-eyed men we see ourselves as,
Ourselves as lonely and unwitnessed by others at the core.
The core in truth has always possessed the light that it has.
It has been covered by a fear that it’s only ourselves that we saw.
We saw that without others loneliness seems to win.
To win new eyes to see we must give up one more view.
More view in fact that to see only ourselves here is to sin.
To sin is to see the ‘I’ and not become the ‘Eye’ that’s all of you.
I find myself in edges where
Litter is lodged amid despair.
The ghosts of others who came this way
And left too soon, they did not stay
To find the reason for moving on,
But carelessly left a state of abandon
With evidence they thought it wrong.
I choose to lose myself now here.
I leave no litter but take the care
To clear again this natured nook
Of rubbish, contain within this book
The unwinding of my bandaged self,
Reveal a healing into health
Of soul, and solitary state of wealth.