Ask Yourself


Where do you come from, that you have such sorrow?
Late one day when the sky hung blue-black
over the peaks, and a storm was coming in,
I heard the thundertips of the eagles’ wings
crack like the mountains.
Do you come from there?

Where are you going, that you feel such despair?
Once during an apocalypse I watched the sun
spin aimlessly in circles three whole days
as I struggled on the periphery of the wasteland.
Is this your destination?

Whom do you love, that you fear so much for them?
In a bad season I fell through a nightmare
into a universe of bodies without souls
entirely lacking the infinite consolation of spirit.
Are the people that you love so finite, then?

How long have you been gone, that you can’t remember home?
Once I learned how the future curved around
to approach us from behind, I spent a thousand years
watching the dew form and reform on a single lotus flower
that bloomed outside my door.
Have you been gone that long?

What has earth shown you, that you cannot bear to look?
Surrounded by spies for the afterworld,
I asked myself why I should work for humans,
but stopped dead when I first saw the blue green sphere
turning in the heavens.
Have you not seen this earth?

Whom do you worship, that you cannot bear to pray?
I knew a god one time stood before an altar stone
and placed a single flower on the rim,
and then he knelt and prayed.
Do you know who you worship?

Who are you, that you have forgotten who you are?

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