He took copious notes
until he knew
of the proper progression.
He double checked
he missed nothing.
When he was certain
he set out
over the horizon.
“Be in the moment,” he says
repeatedly, imagining this
is what the teacher should say.
I want to tell him there is
no other possible moment
I could be in, but having to try
to find the words
instantly takes me out of this
and every other possible moment.
It is said that when the student
is ready, the teacher will appear.
I now seriously hope
the inverse is true, so I can
return to simply being in the moment
free of seeking what I know
cannot be found.
The question is a simple one, really,
but not one you were expecting, which
is why you sit and grapple for an answer.
Ask yourself, what if no answer is needed,
what if there is no answer, can you
remain silent, or will you feel somehow
incomplete if you do not respond?
All answers are correct, but beware,
for all answers are incorrect as well.
Now consider the question again, carefully,
what do you respond when you are asked
once again, insistently, “who are you?”
Be very careful for if you gaze
into a mirror you will see someone else
and if you say that person is you,
you will most certainly disappear.
She said, “the saddest
thing of all is time.
We spend so much of it
trying to insure we know
exactly what time it is,
that it gets away from us
and is gone long before
we get around to using it.”
He said, “but it’s important
to know what time it is,
in case something happens,
for how else can we tell others
what happened and when?”
She laughed, “then
exactly what time is it now,”
and as he looked closely
at his watch, she disappeared.