Is it Wednesday or Thursday?
Oh, what does it matter?
I am moving toward
a glorious state in which
time and place do not exist.
All is present.
Nothing is hidden.
Everything is clear and light.
Friendships are without masks.
It is not strange,
it feels just like home.
Shall I hurry to get there?
But why? Hurrying will not give any time
to a state which has none.
I once forced a daffodil bud open
to hurry Spring along –
it wrecked the flower.
Perhaps hurrying this move
will cause wreckage too.
I am interrupted.
“Poor soul! She is failing –
she doesn’t even know the day of the week!”
Will they ever understand?
Peter Dixon