I came a long way to be here, decades of circling
around this mountain before I finally climbed it
and settled in. I came for the idea of silence,
but now I am sending out clumsy ramblings
about these curious bits of cohesive dust —
how they somehow form a human being,
just for a moment, and then ever so gradually
dissolve back down again into their elemental form,
an ingredient this mountain uses to make itself so tall
that from its peak one can almost reach to touch the stars.
They say we are made from the dust of stars, that we go
so far back that there is no way to comprehend our origin.
When we consolidate our starry dust into the body we wear
to this masquerade party, everyone glances back and forth
as if they can hardly believe their own two eyes —
isn’t she lovely, she wears it so well!
These stunning suits of dust are the miraculous handiwork
of one long march up the mountain of time, carefully molded
by the Great Whatever to fit precisely into this spaciousness
which we casually move through now as if it was nothing at all,
just a little dance, a promenade along the boulevard of dreams.
When the curtain falls on another age, another grand epoch
with its endless parade of colorful costume dramas,
bittersweet tragedies and knee-slapping comedies —
all engaging entertainments for the one who divided itself
into infinite shards of its own body to create the galaxies
from which we’ve spun down into these condensed forms
of living light — then everyone will drift off to dreamless sleep
for a while, millennia, for an impossible period of timeless bliss,
until suddenly a spirit bell rings in the temple at dawn,
and everything pulls itself back together once more.