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The Journey to the West

Though we journey to the West We pray to the East More or less that's the way Each day begins and ends It’s a tale everyone ...

Sunday, November 3, 2019

Timor Mortis Non-Conturbat Me

For whenever it happens
That your forward vision
Collapses in the extreme 
Whether due to old age
Accident unforeseen
Or merely collateral damage
Resulting from a major disaster
And the vanishing point
Suddenly appears near at hand
It’s more than enough
To keep your wits about
Maintaining a stoical bearing
(just like Obdulia has done)
Not so much raging
Against this or that
But contemplative and
Sage-like into the last lap
Timor mortis non-conturbat me

At a certain point
The sum of the holes
Becomes equal or greater
Than the whole of the parts
I mean how much does it really
Bother you now that
You find yourself
Every day growing
A little more preoccupied
By what’s missing
And less attuned
To what’s here
Timor mortis non-conturbat me

 That’s what it feels like anyhow
Like anything might be possible
Even as the corridors have thinned out
Like there’s still no reason for a heart
To be the least bit hardened
Or for the soul to concede
Even an inch of sacred ground
That’s why more and more
As I’ve thought about it
I’ve come to believe
Timor mortis non-conturbat me
By the very grace of God
That’s how we all proceed

1 comment:

  1. Love this one! It hits really close to home today. Thank you for sharing!