Rainy day

Rainy day                                                                                        

To never die, our selves desire.

Yet, mortality is illusion, per the Masters,

as are all such objects –

inherently erroneous.

Our one true deficiency

being the blot and blur

of our desiring self.

Its erasure is all we lack

in the trek from nowhere to nowhere.

Our timeless, motionless passage

an entertainment, a false relief

from God’s idle, eternal limbo –

a brief distraction

during a rainy day, shut-in afternoon.

O child of God, whimsicality and pretense

run the gamut of all existence.