A WORLD OF ONENESS

If here is not here;

then where?

People clutch at food, clothing,

fathers, mothers.

Parents bear us, raise us,

are remembered after death.

But clothes and food are ephemeral,

each of us with only one garment

worn the day we die.

How shapely—our lives

true from birth—

we know the eating, the drinking,

yet how can we grasp death,

the ultimate politics?

Those who believe in their death are blessed.

Moment by moment, time flees

while we lean upon each other, warmed

by pleasant weather. When the flood comes

we’ll cling as if on a chill spring morning,

each other’s heavenly cotton quilt,

fated to be one.

Happiness may be a crime, but if so,

it’s perfect.