FICTIONAL HAIKU

What lies beyond here? |

There is nothing past the veil |

All is a fiction |

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SPARROW’S FLIGHT

Just remember
She is human too
You would say she is made
Of harvest due
But she is made of bones
And sinew
Just like you

She wants you to kick away
The pedestal you put her on
And in your arms rock and sway
So do not fawn

The stoic one
Gets things done
Without a thought or prayer
Then like a magnet drawn
They all come
Into the aura to share

From your sphere
You bring things near
Not from wishing
Or a drawing board’s vision
There is no fishing
Nay
It is the chance you give
For life to live
To do
What it does to you
While you
Calmly move
Through
Experiencing all around
In full surround

Make one distinction
And it is your extinction
At your mention
Heaven and Hell
Become separate dimensions
Let them merge
Then fall away
Feel the surge
Of a label free day

Once I looked upon a sparrow
Flying straight as an arrow
It landed near me
In the sun
My eyes became undone
Clearly I could see
It did not know me
Caring not for my thoughts
It was not distraught

Could I too know
What the sparrow showed?

Spring birds sing
And we call them pretty things

But they do not know they are birds
So perhaps instead I will call the song I have heard

Focus on your feathers
And you will endure any weather

There will be no more need to try and try

Like the nameless bird

You will simply fly

CAGED CONTENTMENT

At first it seems there is hope again
But then
The pattern repeats
And again
I lie in my defeat

What now?
Says the cornered mouse
To the huntress lion
While the eagle is flying

One is too tiny
Another too frightening
And the third is struck by lightning

It soared free
But could not plea
With the sky
Thusly met its demise

And so the mouse stands stalwart
If such a liberated thing
Could not control life with its wings
Then certainly neither could he

The she lion
Is still trying
To feed her cubs
On this string she needn’t tug

Mouse does not know
He is too small to even feed the crow
Let alone this magnificent cat
He could have died right where he sat

His fate he does accept
Very brave except
For the fact that more or less
He cannot really escape this mess

When at first it seems there is hope again
Do not then
Get pulled by the string
Of thinking you can control things

You might say that you can
But nothing that happens is your plan

We are the actors
Not the directors
Not the father or mother
Giving orders
There are no co-writers

Life simply moves
You’ll get it too
It’s really quite simple
This limbo is a symbol

Between bookends of nonexistence
There is a persistent
Need for meaning
Grasp all you can but it is fleeting

Because it is all made up
This and that, all of us

Logos does what it does
Resist and you have already lost

If you do not think this is true
Life itself is defeating you

Put aside your resentment
Must find contentment
Within strength no matter
How many plans splatter

Against bad things pressing
Rather than addressing
The core issue
Is a misuse

White mice in a cage
Do not do what they do because they are afraid
Not even frustration is aroused
The truth beyond the details is couched

Their destiny was simply to be a mouse

 

RECYCLED DREAMS

What if I were to say
All dreams will be gone someday

But they could once again rise
Outside of space, outside of time

By a phantom necromancer mage
Possessing wisdom of new age

If I said dreams will soon be dead
Would you wish to take my head

That is fine
Sweet respite mine

But do not fret
Your desire, still met

For new life shall bring
Reincarnation of all fantastical things

THE LONG DARK

The long dark
Offers no relief
In its grief
No end to its start

A cocoon
Ends its transformation soon

Though not until
Cycle fulfilled

It is fragile
In its sacred vigil

The weakness in the knees
Perhaps will never leave

But do not be distraught
A metamorphosis is promised
Sealed by Eve’s first kiss
To all those who enter the long dark

 

A DIALOGUE OF LIFE AND DEATH (a very short story)

A student walks alongside their teacher. After a quiet period the student asks, “what do you think it’s like to die?”

There is silence for a moment from the teacher, an inward breath, and then an exhalation of words. “I think it’s like falling asleep. First there’s a gap, and then you dream something else. Or you merge with everything by becoming nothing.”

“Hmm…” A slight pause before the riposte. “But then what happens when you wake up from that sleep?”

“Something akin to all of this,” said along with a gesture to the pair and their surroundings. “Everything is just a Bardo.”

“I’ve never heard that word. What is a Bardo?”

“Something that exists between two things. Life lies between birth and death, dreaming between sleeping and waking, and so on.”

“So what is this conversation then?”

“I guess it’s just words in between silence.” The teacher stops walking.

Unsure what to do the student stops as well. The teacher sits on the ground and the student hesitantly follows suit. Finally the student breaks the silence once again. “What are we doing?”

“We are experiencing the death of walking.”

“I’m not sure I understand the symbolism.”

The teacher stands up, begins walking again, and says. “Then don’t stand up and walk until you understand the impulse to do so.”

After just a few moments the student rises and walks behind the teacher to catch up.

“Why did you start to walk again?”

“Because I had more questions, and also I just felt like it.”

“Aha.” The teacher shows positive emotion for the first time in the exchange. “Yes, that is all life and death is.”

“Hmm, okay but-”

“No, that was not symbolic. None of it is. I mean it literally.”

The student looks perplexed but nods. For quite some time the two walk in silence along the path. One contemplates, the other does not.