Postcard 154

What will you see?

 You will see a woman and a child walking across the grass under haze-filtered sun.

She holds a bag. They hold hands and cause eddies in a muddy river of pain.

You will seen hosts of common birds swirling and diving about them

Their paths are, each, marks of your own desires.

You will see the horizon spread at your outstretched hands

You will look on mountains with pride

You will grip clay and shatter obsidian

Shale will slide under your calm feet

You will see sand ground and moved and feel grateful relief

You will touch the slight lines of your own face

You will see your loved ones weather with age and fill with a comfortable despair

Time slides around unseen and leaves like crisp air

You will watch dispassionate, pain and pleasure flow unceasing

batter your body like a wave beaten pier

You will see the world you made, the self you made become unsustained

Conflagrate as an offering to a fire

You will feel the weight of praise and swell with righteous pride

You will see a march of ants in your sink, caught by spiders, hefting dead flies

and seasons blinking by will wash your eyes

You see yourself their progeny

You will finally feel humble and free

Your familiar cat will mount your chest and purr

You will realize and forget, forget and realize

You will realize and forget