Holiday Reflections

Sad and lovely.

Exquisite.

It is not only in this striving for more than I am

than I have

than I think I am capeable of.

It is not only this dream, this heaven-like dream

which would, after all require utter metamorphisis

of what we are

and the lives we live

and the choices we make.

Am I ready to bask in the warmth of their love?

But it is also this right-hereness-and-nowness

A dirtiness flimsiness substanitality

It is more than a thing made precious in spite of

so much pettiness impatience and greed.

Will I be able to pretend that I basking in the warmth of their love?

Will I be able to put it all away for a few minutes?

Will the show make it real?

Will the real make it show?

It wouldn’t be wholly true

to say that it is all made precious because of

so much pettiness impatience and greed

either.

Perhaps the delicious disappointments

arise from this tension this attention

we are not what we could be

and yet we are enough to know that we could be.

Despite all my yesterday’s promises I haven’t crawled far out of the mire

and yet I am ever so slowly crawling out of the mire.

A greatness a nobility resides

not so much in us

as in our aspiration to greatness and nobility.

I am a gnat leaping into the darkness

only the faint promise of the far side of the canyon

falling and leaping falling and leaping falling and leaping.

The eagle which soars across the gulf between what is and what might be

is so much more than us,

and yet

it is not.

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