Shake the shadowing past, o lover;
leap at the last possible moment
(every possible moment), from the departing train.
Ditch that tiresome chaperone, cynical governor and guide.
You’ll end up, likely, on the wrong side of the tracks.
Learn your way around. Reject the pitches
of the barkers and carnies – preachers on the corner,
the winking future, the lurid rarees; slip out
of the rickety constructs of the row houses
and seaside pavilions. Enter the tomb of the now.
Leave your strategies, tendril desires and neurosis
with your sandals – outside that holy sepulcher.
Rest there – while you still have a body;
find space enough to accede and receive;
find death with all its accompanying peace
in the tomb of the now;
as the teachings describe it – in the happy,
carefree tomb of the now.
O child of God, pare down nearer and nearer
to the only one holy, eternal, unfolding moment.