OF THIS, THAT AND FALLING ANGELS

I am everything.
Yes this, and this, and this.
Awareness can do it all,
except when it won’t,
Here, in the core of bone,
where this and that are one.

Still, here, falling angels serenade
that finer sense makes sense,
as beliefs battalion a smile
offering a promised-land
neatly tucked in the heart
where cruelty (right now)
seems calm and carries on.

And-and we let it unfold,
equal enough to behave
as if truth does not bite back.

Let the little, unreal me, be
nowhere in emptiness,
let it disappear for a night in That
invisible chant where eyes sing
and love vanishes in peace
and peace is gone
in unperceived purity
and the walls, they are melting,

as you and I are one.