Lying

What do we know?

Pretty red roses have thorns.

Nothing's as it seems.

Isn't it better this way?

If we knew everything,

We would know nothing.

"I have no answers for you."

He says to the cracked mirror. 

God. Other. Trinity. Mystery. Jesus. Bukowski, Yeats.

Buddha. Zen. Merton. Knausgaard. Mary. Joseph. Saints. 

One hand clapping. 

On ear hearing, one eye seeing. 

Every effort with passion, 

Crumbles as it should. 

Success is mischief. 

Greed is antichrist. 

Failure is good. 

Anger then sadness. 

Sadness then fear. 

Comes thoughts of shadow. 

Death. Meaning. Talent. 

Here it is, never buried. 

"Rewards await thee in heaven",

The parallel beatific waiting room.

Love is a mess.

"Skin and breath and hair"---Bruce Cockburn

Watch. 

As I tread the water of this sea. 

This ocean of boring, consistent confusion. 

My body of water. Mine!

I can walk on it, dance on it, have a tantrum on it!,

Storms are commonplace, within a single  wave of thought.  

Waves still scare me.

The surface hides a silent bewilderment and melancholy.

I would be lying,

to lead you on otherwise.

 Lol.   

wkm