the void beckons

without calling out

what you hear

is the blood rushing

through your ear

like an ocean roar

or a wind's passing

or pick whatever

tired metaphor

inadequately conveys

the speechless wonder

being alive conveys--

no--not our doings--

those stumblings toward some light

but the awareness itself

outlasting all experience

by ever being the ground

of experience--

undoubtedly we

will meet up again

or just as undoubtedly we won't--

I know as much and as little

as the rest of us

but what does that matter--

in this moment fleetingly

eternal or eternally fleeting?--

what does it matter?

now is all

and that's all for now--

for those who can hear

for those who can see

that's all for now

O ears!

O Eye!

Content (c) 2008-2009 Philip Milito.