"Will You Ever Get Tired of Me?"
Things collapse. Machines wear out. Hawks’ wings can break, and, like broken pencils, hawks cannot then capture what their talons’ points should pierce and hold. Teeth tire, grind down in fire of meat, bone, ice, pits of fruit, sleep. Jokes and quips can’t walk or crawl after 10 year journeys down the mind’s slide. Gravity wins. And the child’s body tires into sleep and wakes to tire out and sleep again. Chthonic rhythms, spring to spring, wear away. Land erodes. And “again” is an adult ≅ defeat. Weary feet of fate. How many times one song can be heard until we cannot listen. Tyren: to stop. Deu: to lack, be wanting.
A: if I am a thing
B: and it is in things to tire
C: I as thing must tire
But: I as more than a thing have in more than my DNA what it is to do more than what a thing alone can do, and so: I am able most and more to not stop, not lack, not be wanting. What is more than a thing > its thingness. You > your thingness. So: my “No” is not a word to fill the space your question makes with a splinter of light, like a candle until burning melts what can only melt. “No” is a flame that cannot burn or melt as it burns. And it is not imagination looking at itself or you in evaporating pools. -- “No” is only the yes of all the air the hawk wends and children breathe and songs play as yes its force derives from all that is not air in that infinite space our senses know though we cannot fly and have no need. -- “No”: the yes of what of course our hearts & kiss share in tireless divinity making all things new.
Echoes, from the 8th Circle
How is it that they who say so spaciously
how unfixed and open they are in mind
are sometimes if not often those who see
only what they want to see, in kind
no different than the beaurocrat or king
who takes no counsel, ripping as a rind
the skin of thought from its buried seedlings
and its fleshy fruit, making vulnerable
to pain those who took their words for things
that mattered, and lived, trust-ripe and full
of heart -- not for questions like winds tearing power
lines of understanding nor anger like a squall
preventing sight? And what can one offer
in response if in response they openly
fling spears of denial in heavy showers?