Don’t Explain

When both wisdom and folly seemed not so different
from the calls of the crows carried on the breeze,
then you knew you were done with words.
Imagination makes a poetry of perception —
we each read it in our own silent language
and draw our own conclusions.
The after-world is empty until we arrive.
Then mind provides the cast of characters,
they are welcoming you with applause.
Look, you can see right through them!
You smile back, wistfully . . .
You know they are not there.
You remember the breeze, the bird calls.
Even without a form to claim, even now,
there are tears without explanation.
Don’t try to explain, don’t say a word.
The elegant light in the distance
is now behind you, you are
waiting to be born.

About Bob OHearn

My name is Bob O'Hearn, and I live with my Beloved Mate, Mazie, in the foothills of the Northern California Sierra Nevada Mountains. I have a number of blog sites you may enjoy: Photo Gallery: Essays on the Conscious Process: Compiled Poetry and Prosetry: Verses and ramblings on life as it is: Verses and Variations on the Investigation of Mind Nature: Verses on the Play of Consciousness: Poetic Fiction, Fable, Fantabulation: Poems of the Mountain Hermit: Love Poems from The Book of Yes: Autobiographical Fragments, Memories, Stories, and Tall Tales: Ancient and modern spiritual texts, creatively refreshed: Writings from selected Western Mystics, Classic and Modern: Wisdom of a Spirit Guide: Thank You!
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