It wasn’t so much that it slipped away this morning, I’ve come to expect that, and I know there is absolutely nothing I could do to stop it. It wasn’t even that I couldn’t recall what it was precisely that was gone, for that is the nature of departure and longing. It was more that I now cannot determine what it was the replaced it, and my mind is supposed to be engaged in a net zero sum memory game, for that is what gives me hope for tomorrow.
The hardest thing
to remember is
to remember is to
after infinite loop.
Forgetting is often easier,
or perhaps we only
think that is so
for once we
have forgotten something
we may recall
the act of forgetting
but never the thing
The key is to be
selective in forgetting
for although remembering
is the sum of five senses,
forgetting is merely
the selective misapplication
of the inverse of that sum.
I know there was something else,
or maybe I just wish there was.
The infant girl smiles with infinite knowledge,
present wholly in this moment, knowing
no other, her eyes speaking with the wisdom
of all who have gone before her.
In those eyes your heart hears stories
of universes waiting to born, collapsing
inward, naked singularities, and compassion.
She doesn’t offer to teach you, but you
cannot help but look into her and learn.
Everyone can be a Buddha, she says,
all are, but too soon we forget and spend
so much of our lives trying to regain
the Buddha nature with which
each of us emerges from the womb.