ah to be blissful, to be happy, to be

all the things – that makes life what?

pleasurable is not meaning,

meaningful may not be pleasure.

certainly one needs only look to the saints

that walked the talk,

or the buddha, or other religious founders,

certainly did not seem it was about carrots.

the waves erode the mountain,

and now all we have are pieces of what words

framed, deciphered, eaten

like a dog with a bone,

with eyes dim – because the picture is not less

vibrant, it’s our vision.

certainly the wise men have taken recess,

for now the christmas tree is colored with

ornaments – what’s my present?

and the days become years,

and i was suddenly an old man stooping low,

swam back to the first shore i came from.

oh how the times have changed!

and i swam harder, to another beach,

it wasn’t my time – where have all the heroes gone?

and i went back still further,

how cultures change the shape of reality,

when it is no longer argued what is.

taken to be a living immortal –

what is, shifts

through time, space,

then the boy picked a pebble, threw it into

the raging, tormented sea: make a wish.

flesh fallen out from bones,

the dog refuses to let go. there’s something better.

then the meat became gold,

but gold worshippers had no more use for flesh.

tried to enjoy the carnal, the lust,

satiated, filled, fat bellied worms

unable to move.

i’ve changed, i’ve changed

the worms rattled.

a dog stands on two legs, howls

when bones finally

turn to gold. he too had no use for gold.