.
We
wonder as we try to oversee
the
vast horrific traffic jam that we
have
generally made of what we’ve done,
how
much was duty, how much was fun?
.
Could
duty and fun be the same?
Perhaps
that’s the clue to the game.
It
isn’t exactly that everything’s One.
Everything’s
everything: duty and fun,
.
and
as variously and confusingly bundled
as
let’s-call-It-God is each time It has trundled
Its
Godself into yet a newly inscrutable Universe,
wondering:
meaningless joke, or luminous curse?
.
Should
the moon be averse to the Earth?
Should
dying be bundled with birth?
Look
at this crystalline rock sparking lights
indiscriminately
through the days and the nights
.
like
the flights of the limbs of a dancer.
I
found a fellow who says that’s the answer.
He
even gave me the rock.
I’ve
not got over the shock.
.
.
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