Wednesday, January 1, 2014

Blissful in Mine

I do not know the meaning of life
I tried, believe me, for years
And then one day
When life slipped away
I gave up.
That, which can slip away so easily
Is not worth thinking too much about
(Regardless of what I heard Buddha say)
It is worth only living
As long as it lasts. 

I think now of myself
As being just as significant
As an ant.
I don't take myself too seriously
Or aim to be a role model for anyone
What I say, what I do, or what I write
Is just about as significant
As an ant's toiling
An act of survival
Or perhaps a little less. 

My heart's desires
Its pain
Its suffering
Its fears
Its delight
Are no more than an ant's
And my body's slow dissolving 
Into nothingness
Nothing more than an ant
Your feet just crushed. 

I am telling you
No point talking about me 
With a twinkle in your eyes.
Or wasting that all knowing look
Upon secrets you unearthed
(My secrets are not very well kept anyway)
Or shocking me with shocking tales of my many misdeeds.
I live like an ant does
Unaware of your existence
And blissful in mine.

Note: Someone had me quite sore recently and this is my response to her.

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