Isness

Lord Existence has tricked us
All into being and being is pain;
The choice was not ours,
The choice is ours.
Among what beauties and graces
We find ourselves,
In what a treasure house
We are trapped!
There is no right
But what is.  O what is!
What substance and what forces
Accompany us:  gravity, movement and light,
And substance to color our days.

And twice through the museum
We relocate the door, on the threshold
We pause -- the gallery, though flawed
Is brightly lit.  The dimness
I thought I saw is within me.
Exhibits unseen, unknown to me
Cry out for understanding.
Shivering in the dimness, the door
Will not be opened.
All this, Lord Existence, to create time?


Utah 1984
M. Reynolds