The first step was born in potential. My soul had grown a liberating callus, protection from the world. The underlying poison remained festered and contained as I forgot. Moving on was a necessary necessity, I wasn’t a Taoist. I used to be.
I used to be a lot of things. I even got used to being Renaissance. Four hundred years ago, men like me would die for their ideas, now people die because of or without them.
I always wondered about folks without “capacities”. When I was a kid, I’d close my eyes and pretend I was blind. I’d feel around the house solo Marco Polo. I payed attention to the little things.
Sunlit cracks on the sidewalk.
Crunching, dull variegated leaves.
So light, walking on the refrozen melted ice sheet over powder snow.
Budding green and flowing water.
I could see, but I didn’t want to. The smell was noxious.
Sudden how things change. The faces are so enthralled with technology that I don’t even recognize myself anymore. My old journals contain letters to my future self. When I read these old letters, I choke back the tears of repression I am afraid to show. It’s as sad as a bud freezing before it blossomed.
I tell my love that I swallowed the worlds' sorrow when I was a little boy. I thought it was a gum-ball. God tricked me. Cupid cried and Victory sank her wings, Death picked me up in his boat. He rowed and cried for injustice. I like being famous, but the sorrow is a heavy rock to carry. When I was little I dragged it, now I got a wheel barrow I water with wine. I’m writing ‘cuz the tub is rusted, and the grass has died under it. The barrow of sorrow is sinking. I’m tempted to just let it go and walk away. Leave it for the vultures to speak.
Possessions.
Inside, my guts crumble with faith. I am strong enough to hear the clock tick. I want to hold onto and lay on the wheel barrow of sorrow, to be with it when I find happiness. To show it that happiness and love are there just under the horizon, will relieve my security of being. I want the sorrow to come with me and be happy. I walk away, whistling it to follow. The sorrow won’t come and I am sad.
”Good-bye Sorrow”, I wave with a laugh.
“See ya later”. It says. I stand still watching away, while it remains.