ONENESS LOST

He needs a kingdom

as the living need water.

Without water, thirst.

Without a kingdom, misfortune.

In the farm field, he bends,

tilling, sickling rice.

Like wind his big hands

weave emptiness.

He needs a kingdom

as the living need a self.

Without self, nonexistence.

Without a kingdom, what road?

Time is a sea shattered whole,

paths at every point.

Perched by the high shore,

he scans for the distant realm.

No king,

he’s past all kingdoms.

Imagination may rule memory’s ocean,

but in what’s imagined, memory claims

the mastery it’s lost.